Absolute Altitude
by LeakySneakyOprichniki
Summary: It's what they've dreamed of. Taking the time to go back and look at where it all began; the ShinRa Space program. Cid and Shera don't anticipate disaster, or surviving the aftermath.
1. Chapter 1

I.

The air was so much crisper here. It was like ice in her lungs; stinging but invigorating. It served to wake her alongside the bitter flavor of the community coffee pot. She'd been working here behind the strong line of the Nibelheim Mountains for more than a year now, but the novelty of the atmosphere had yet to wear off. Her mother warned her that she probably wouldn't have liked it, after a life of growing up at sea level and treading sand, but the hard rock and grit, and the evergreen trees were just fine.

The ShinRa acceptance letter had left her shaking under the hug of banana leaves that shaded her mother's high front porch. She remembered shrieking loud enough to draw upon the attention of her neighbors, and they lived several hiking stair stilts up along the island cove. Oh glory, all her life, Shera dreamed of absolute altitude. She was finally going to leave, finally going to do something more with her life.

Her mother was jaded in watching her leave. It was more of Shera trusting that her mother could live on her own, and not the other way around. Mother Joules couldn't help but issue negative circumstance after another, one more dreary 'what-if', but that wasn't going to work this time. Shera couldn't be sour in light of her mother's demeanor, though, she wouldn't have earned gold stars program after program if that had been the case. Gathering her courage, she left her mother her new prepared contact, and address somewhere on the western continent, and wished herself good luck. Here she was now, months later and enjoying her relative freedom, and surely enjoying forgetting where she came from for just a little while. Even if the job wasn't what she was truly gunning for, she took it with refined vigor.

The coffee had lost a portion of its heat and no longer burned her tongue. Shera pressed her glasses up the cold flat of her nose and narrowed her eyes into the details of the daily statists she had been hired to oversee. The lists were seemingly endless, but she was born to be kept busy.

"Hey, !" Some of the other hired engineers were passing her by on the way to the newly refurbished technical center on the other side of the owned plot. Shera lifted her head; allowing the pencil poised at the edge of her lips to sag. The fellow, couldn't have been too much older than she was, adjusted his name badge and waved.

"Something wrong?" Shera took her pencil from her mouth and stuck it in one of the pockets of her lab coat.

"Something right, actually!" He seemed pretty excited. "They finally bagged a potential pilot from the Special Arms. Palmer says the president hired him sometime earlier this week, and they're just flying him in."

"A pilot?" Shera furrowed her brows. They didn't even have a rocket together yet. As far as she knew, the technical team were still considering a mass of possible prototypes. Rockets one through twenty had been…disappointing. Hiring teams had been switched several times. Probably why they only had one willing participant, and not a whole flight crew. The project was new and daunting.

"I know right. We're all going to go bring in the welcome wagon. You know how it is, round up the whole gang, and talk him up." He continued on his way when she placed her clipboard down on the bench where she had been working. She guessed it would be proper to join the gang and get a load of the 'new guy'.

II.

"Here he is!" Palmer made a 'ta-da!' sort of motion in debuting the so called 'Celestialnaut' in training. The Space Program director clasped his chubby hands and grinned at the crowd that had gathered under the sky lighting inside the general auditorium. "This here is Captain Cid Highwind. He'll be working with us for now on. As part of his now, um, honorary duties on the staff, he'll be training for spaceflight and overseeing preparations for an eventual success! Wanna say a few words Cap, hehe?"

Shera had to press around a few tightly packed shoulders to get a good look. She squinted behind the sky lighting gleam in her glasses to get a good look at the new Celestialnaut standing at Palmer's side. He chewed on the butt of and extinguished cigarette; his gloved hands shoved in his pocket. Shera couldn't tell how old he was, but he was a sturdy looking, midsized man that seemed to radiate confidence. His blond hair was neatly trimmed and slicked back over the top of his head, and his blue eyes glinted with mild interest in the afternoon light that draped over his shoulders and haloed the crown of his head.

Captain Highwind scratched his chin in nonchalance, and then spoke. "Y'all know my name now, and what to expect of me, so, I'll tell ya what I expect." He stuffed his hand back in his pocket and took a few steps down from the platform. "I've got a _no bullshit_ policy. If something's up, or new, I wanna be the first to know. I dish out orders, and I expect to have em' followed with no excuses. I ain't a fresh rooster. As some of y'all may know, I transferred over from Weapons as a combat pilot and flight developer. Got a couple hundred hours under my belt, and I know what makes a good machine, so you ain't got to question my know-how." His eyes were firm in glancing from face to face.

"Fresh rooster?" Someone whispered.

"Country boy." They snickered and Shera gave an amused hum in agreement. She was a little surprised to hear the tone of his voice and his…vocabulary. This was going to be interesting.

"So, that's all I got for now, lackeys." Cid made his full descent down the stairs and Palmer waddled after him. The crowd had gotten their ear and eye of Captain Highwind, and were shuffling back out to their duties.

"Ah! Wait!" Palmer huffed. He narrowed his eyes through the parting bodies, and then gasped. "Hey! Ms. Lady! Ahh, Joules!" The director remembered her name for once. "Wait!"

Shera blinked in surprise and stopped in her tracks. She pointed to herself ( Me? ), and Palmer affirmatively nodded his head ( Yes, you!). She waited for them to approach her. "Is there something I can help you with, Sir?"

"Sure is." Palmer cleared his throat and folded his arms behind his back. "I've got one more job for you. Think you could show Captain Highwind around. I'm gonna make you his official assistant so he can get a handle on what's here, yeah?!" He grinned a little wider. The fat of his neck folded in his jolliness and Shera's forehead creased in slight apprehension.

"An assistant, Sir? I'm already overseeing some systems functions. I think it might conflict." She'll be dammed if she was going to be stuck being an assistant again. She scraped for the position she had now.

"Oh! You're a big girl, you can handle Cap'n, can't you?" Palmer chortled.

"Ah…of course." Shera prudently agreed. She eyed Captain Highwind. He had his arms crossed during their exchange. He appeared to be sizing Shera up. She could feel his blue eyes roaming from head to toe. It's not like she was going to be the Captain's assistant the whole time, right? She'd show him around, and then be out of his hair.

"I'll let you two get situated, hehe." Palmer teetered toward the double doored exit. "And don't forget to send in those reports!" He waved behind him.

Shera sighed and turned her attention back to her escortee. Captain Highwind had uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on his hips. "So, you gonna stare all damn day, or are you gonna show me around?"

"Uh…right." Shera smothered her blush before it could surface on her cheeks and got a move on. "Follow me this way, Sir."

III.

"And this will probably be your commons while we're working here. It's just a place to debrief, rest, and have breaks. This building, it leads right down into maintenance for the launch pad a few miles down field. They have quite a few trees cleared away in preparation for larger prototypes." Shera tugged a thick manila packet from behind the metal clamp of her clipboard. She chewed the inside of her cheek; watching Captain Highwind assess what might as well have been a temporary living quarters. He dug through the small kitchen, opened a closet or two, and didn't seem to mind the clutter.

"Guess this'll be an alright bunk. What's upstairs?" He seemed to consider climbing up the steps. The Captain placed his hand on the rail and curiously craned his head up to see over the banister.

"I don't dwell here too often, I'm not sure." Shera cleared her throat to recapture his attention. "This is a collection of some of the previous launch models. You're welcome to—"

"You can save it. I don't wanna read any of that. They failed, so that's that." Captain Highwind removed his jacket. He frowned at the confusion clinging to Shera's features. "Listen, Ms. Watts , I just wanna know what they're cookin' up now. I ain't got any time to waste. These fat cats are guzzlin' major cash, and they wanna see results." He grinned just a bit. "And I'm ready to give em' what they've been waitin' for. Understand?"

It's Joules. "I suppose, Sir." Shera rolled her tongue on the inside of her mouth. She placed the packet right back where she had clipped it. She glanced back up again to find him removing his scarf as well, and placed his removed garments on a crooked coat rack. His gloves were removed after and he grasped his waist in a good stretch. He closed one eye when their gazes locked again and he tilted his head.

"Are you going to stare all day?" Shera slanted her head in the same direction; repeating his words from earlier. The Captain's expression was an unreadable one.

"You're a little young to be an analyst, aren't ya?" He closed his other eye, and opened the one that'd been closed before. Captain Highwind tilted his head in the opposite direction, and Shera followed that motion as well. A small gesture, but kinda bold of her. Cid had pegged her as probably the quiet know-it-all; feisty if you poked her. He liked Ms. Decibels well enough to accept her as an assistant.

"I suppose I am, but I wouldn't worry about my qualifications." Shera pursed her lips at his question.

Captain Highwind approached her. His stern, crystaly blue eyes held a good amount of curiosity. "Qualifications, eh? What's your background, Jolts?"

It's Joules…

Her eyes darted down to the revealed dogtag that twinkled in the dim light of the housing, and then back up to his face. She watched the curved bow of his lips and the dimples that dented his jaw when his smug grin stretched his features. She licked her teeth on the inside of her mouth. The Captain's sets were a perfectly straight, pearly white row. And, even though it was smug, it suited his handsome; squared face.

"Automotive engineering, astrophysics, statistical studies, of course." Shera inwardly slapped her wrist when she noticed she was twirling a piece of her bangs between her fingers.

"That's some heavy duty stuff you're talkin' up there, kid." The Captain wrapped up his assessment.

"I didn't pack my degrees with me, otherwise, I'd be prepared for this job interview. I'm young but very excited to be here."

"Shit," the Captain scoffed and the corners of his eyes formed charming little crinkles "you'n me are gonna get along just fine, Hertz."

IV.

Months of construction rolled by. Shera spent her mornings out in the fields, her afternoons trying not to day dream, and her evenings catching up on lost time. It began as an unbearable chore to have to follow Captain Highwind around. All of her other tasks were always rattling around in the back of her mind, but the Captain happened to be very hard to get away from. If she excused herself to work on other things, he'd always seemed to be able to find her, and have her conduct his bidding. Which was annoying, and familiar, and even more annoying that it was familiar. If she wanted to continue to be an errand runner, she would have remained at home with her mother. The bright side of course, was that he was very, very cute. And that if he was bickering, at least the bass in his voice was appealing.

"Hey, Kid, be a doll n' put on a pot of water fer' me." The Captain grunted. He lifted a fresh cigarette to his lips and lit it. Shera waved her hand at the table of the small living quarters to dissipate some of the smoke. She ignored that that bothered her, and pretended he hadn't asked her to boil some water for him.

"Hey…" Captain Highwind barked. "I know ya heard me. Pull the knot out your panties. It's just a pot of water. I ain't askin' ya to draw me a damn bath." He smelled like chlorine from the submerged suit testing they'd had him perform earlier today. The Captain expected she was bitter because had to stay and watch, but it was quite the opposite.

"Water for what, Captain?" Shera sighed and removed her hands from the keyboard of her company issued computer. He was very cute, and he was also very demanding. He was lucky she had a reservoir of patience.

"Got some brew and stuck it up in the kitchen cupboard. I want some of it before I turn in for the night." He pulled the mentioned box out of the storage and chucked it onto the table. The Captain was scarfing down something he'd snagged from the new district bar and diner, and plopped down at the opposite side of the table from where she'd stationed her work.

"Tea?" Shera supposed not everyone drank loose leaf. They were some generic packets in flavors she had never heard of before.

"Uh, huh. Don't care if you have any." He exhaled through his nostrils, closed his eyes, and sat back in his hard wooden seat. Shera gazed at him from the corner of the kitchen counter. She placed an overused kettle on the stove top after filling it in the sink. She could see his mouth moving. Was he talking to himself?

"They're um," Shera paused to press some of her hair behind her ear "they're preparing to launch twenty four tonight. I received an email stating that they would like for you to be present for count down."

"Present?!" Cid stiffened and he sat right on up in his seat. "Just present? Why the fuck ain't I on that one?!" By his tone of voice, he was deeply offended.

"We want to insure we can manufacture a rocket that can maintain orbit." Shera began to explain. She reclaimed her seat at the table, saved her work, and then closed her device.

"Fuck, what? What about twenty one? Ain't that one work? What's the hold up?" Captain Highwind scowled. He was beginning to think some of the others in charge were being a little lackadaisical. Wasting time on more models, when they had perfectly good ones to satisfy the higher ups. Perfectly good ones that would satisfy his own anxiousness to haul ass off the lithosphere.

Shera could somewhat understand his hostility. The anticipation ate away at her heart sometimes, too. She wanted to see all of the hard work really pay off…but she knew better. Good things, no _great_ things took a little time. Nurturing. Perfecting. "You're an engineer, Captain, right?" Of course he was. "You know they have to refine. Rocket twenty one had made orbit before we encountered some malfunctions. It needed to be reworked."

"Alright, so, what about twenty two?" His scowl hardened.

"Pressurization inside specific chambers were less than satisfactory. Some of the initial materials eroded or burned off leaving the atmosphere. We um, had to request different exteriors in light of re-entry."

"Twenty three? What the hell was wrong with that, then?!"

"It worked, but—"

"Alright, fuckin' save it." He gnashed his teeth. "They gonna trash this one?"

"I'm not sure. If this has more promise, we'll send the next one up with something living."

The fire in the Captain's eyes reignited. He got the inkling it wouldn't be him just yet, but he could hope. "Fuckin' fantastic." He dug his elbows into the table and ruddied his already disheveled hair with his hands. He ashed his cigarette in a tray. "When's count down?"

"It's scheduled for twenty one hundred hours, Sir. I plan to attend as well."

V.

"Colder than the devil's heart out here." Cid muttered to himself. He suddenly wished his jacket had longer sleeves. His breath left him in plumes; leaving the underside of his nose damp and runny. He was sore, and tired, and all he could think of was having someone pour him a stiff one. Maybe he would. Some aspects of his training didn't agree with him, but for his sake, they better in time. G-force, weightlessness, egress, and on and on and on. That would be considered the fun stuff. What did he have next? Safety precautions, cases of emergencies, yadda yadda yadda.

Yellow street lamps of the research plot illuminated the frozen puddles that dotted dirt paths. It had been snowing on and off; halting much of the continued preparations. He really needed things to get a move on. Palmer was breathing down his neck trying to urge him to rally things along, which only meant that their investor, the big red diamond, was breathing down the porky guy's neck in turn. He didn't want a little more time either. Cid could almost taste the stars. He was feeling a little weightless right now. Or, at least he really, really wanted to. He'd been dreaming of absolute altitude since he was a snot nosed runt. Ever since his momma threw his ass in one of her jet planes and told him the sky was never the limit. Shit.

"Shit!" Cid hissed. He'd nearly fallen on his ass not paying attention to where he was letting his feet fall. He sobered his thoughts and dug around in his pocket for his phone. He'd very slyly bagged Shera's number, some bullshit he made up about needed to contact her in case of emergencies, and currently debated asking her if she wanted to grab something to drink with him. He liked her, a little more than he allowed himself to dwell on.

A real cutie was what she was (in a kinda nerdy sorta way), a smart ass, and sometimes a little too reserved for his liking, but a real swell piece of work. No one would rag on him for her being a little young right? I mean, at the moment, he was just kind of workin' on being her friend. She was real good company. Cid liked having her around. And he really didn't accept anyone else following some of his instructions. By now, she really was his personal assistant.

"Hn…hello?" He straightened up at the sound of her voice against his ear. Cid wriggled his fingers around in his free hand to relieve some of the numbness the temperature had gifted him. She sniffed, and he could hear the creak of an office desk in the background. Poor gal had probably fallen asleep over her work again.

"Hey, wake up." Cid continued walking as he spoke into the receiver.

"I'm awake, Captain. Are you okay?" She sounded concerned. Bless her heart.

"Yeah. Come meet me over at the diner."

VI.

He could see she was confused at first to find absolutely nothing was wrong. Cid had chuckled and patted the bar stool next to him. "Plop yer' ass on down and order up a drink. It's on me…" Cid gently rubbed the chill from his nose and watched her slowly plant herself in the stool beside him. She gazed up and over her shoulders; taking note of the interior of the still relatively new diner. He figured this was probably her first time being inside. Geeze, did she never get out, or was she really always working?

"I thought you'd only call in case of emergencies, Captain?" Shera loosened her grip on the bag she had carried in with her. Who knows what she'd brought with her. Probably a first aid kit. The thought made him snort.

"Something funny?"

"Nah, Amps." Cid knew exactly what her last name was, and took a constant delight in seeing that reserved feistiness in her eyes. She was going to finally correct him one of these days. He really just liked to fuck with her. "And I'm considern' this an emergency." He made a circular motion with his finger and whistled to the bar tender. "Make it two cold ones. Tall Mugs." Cid glanced back at Shera. Her eyes were wide behind her glasses. Uh… "You can drink, can't ya?"

"I'm not that young, Sir." She blushed and pressed those full, soft looking lips into a line. Shera looked like she wanted to laugh. "I can drink. I just don't think I'm going to be able to drink the same amount as you. Before you ask, yes, I'm a lightweight." She scooted up in place to remove her glasses and rub at her eyes. She was probably tired.

"I wasn't gonna ask." Cid lied. "And I'll down what you don't." He pulled out a red carton from his pocket and thumbed out a cigarette. "Don't mind, do ya?"

Shera shook her head. "I don't mind." She placed her glasses back on her nose and slowly pulled her freshly poured drink in her direction by the coaster. Cid watched her out of the corner of his eye while she sipped.

"So uh," Oh man…he hadn't taken a woman out in how many years? Not that this fully counted, or anything. "You know the status?"

He knew she'd be aware of what he meant by the question. Shera contained a small belch and righted the hair that fell into the collar of her sweater. She seemed to pause for just a moment to think of how she was going to phrase the information that was going to come out of her mouth. "They're refining a template. Twenty five was scheduled to launch earlier this week, but you know with all the snow and…" Shera dug around in her pocket and produced her phone to show him her lock screen. "The good news is that we found a nice cat." She reached for her drink to distract herself from Cid's reaction.

Cid almost snorted beer from his nose. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Some of the other patron's spending the late evening in the bar zoned in on the source of the racket Cid caused. He snatched a napkin from a canister, and with a flushed face, patted droplets of liquid from his scarf. "A cat?! They're going to send a fucking cat?!"

"A pretty nice looking cat, too." The voice that responded to him was not Shera's. Cid's expression immediately soured. A man, no taller than he was and sporting a heavier, leather coat collected his things from his table. He would eventually pass them by, but paused to fucking instigate. He peered at Cid from behind his scruffy eyebrows, and stroked the dark, burly beard that engulfed his chin. "You think they wasted their damn time on both of us, Highwind?" The slow tip of his head wasn't intended to be particularly friendly. He examined Shera for a moment, before finally minding his own damn business and ringing the top bell on the way out.

"Who was that?" Shera considered him random, but Cid knew exactly who he was, and why he even bothered to comment. That wasn't any of her business, though.

"Don't worry about it." Cid raised his mug to his lips and used the cold, frothing liquid to smother his temper.

VII.

The rest of the evening rolled by until it was time for the lamp lights to go out. The woman let him talk, and talk, and talk, and she didn't stop him. He wondered if Shera had general interest in what he was rambling about, or if she was really good at pretending to listen. Either way, they were the last ones left, so Cid excused them before the diner manger had the mind to kick them out.

Past the fogged windows, the street was nearly pitch black. It had started to rain again. And soon enough, the rain had turned into more snow. Cid could see it lightly tapping against the frames and collecting in the edges of the panes. He frowned.

"Hey, let me walk ya home."

Shera kindly waved him off. "I'm not tipsy, Captain." She scooted out of her stool and yawned. She swiped away from the picture of their Meowstronaut… and checked the time in the top corner of her phone screen. "I can walk home."

"You sure? I ain't gonna get handsy. Not that kinda fella. Unless you want me to be." He threw the disclaimer out there. "It's pretty dark out. You live way out on the other side, right? Near the apartment plot?"

Shera gave him a very charmed look. She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I do. I've got my coat, and a taser. Besides, you'd have to walk all the way back to this side of town. I think you'll scare my roommate."

"A little cold ain't gonna kill me. I'll walk ya. Or, you know, you could come stay the night over at the bunk. It's not like half of your shit isn't already layin' around there."

Hmm…he had a point. "I…suppose." Part of her wondered what his intentions were, but his eyes communicated sincerity. Shera was agreeable to spending the night.

* * *

 **And that concludes chapter one. Thank you for reading! Until next chapter. R and R!**


	2. Chapter 2

I.

"You can uh, have my bed upstairs if you want." Cid offered. He nervously rubbed the underside of his nose after placing his jacket on the rack before the stairs. Shera was still by the front door, stomping the snow from the bottom of her boots, and then removing them on the mat. She pulled her hair from her chilled cheeks and blew mountain air from between her lips.

"That's kind of you, Captain, but the couch in the other room is just fine." Shera's smile was a quiet one. She moved past the work lamp he had clicked on, and placed her own coat on a peg next to his. Her shoulder bag was hooked on after.

Cid scratched his chin and shrugged his shoulders. "That couch in there has seen better days. Suit yer'self, I guess." He didn't press her. The Captain paused for a moment; a bit mystified at the sight of her pulling the yellow band from her dark hair. The high pony tail fell and swept over her shoulders. Shera gave the crown of her head and good scratch and tussle, and curiously met his gaze over the warm wash of the work bulb.

He cleared his throat. "I'm gonna dig out one of the blankets from the upstairs storage. I'll be down in a sec. I'd say you're welcome to whatever, but it ain't like you're new around here. Looks like you're goin' right to bed anyway."

"Mm…right." Shera pursed her lips and her expression tensed at her brows. "Are you not?"

"Goin' to bed?"

"Yes, Captain, it's late. Don't you think? I thought you had something scheduled for early tomorrow?" Shera had turned by now. She made a short saunter to the worn down seating off in the other space. The couch creaked in slight protest from the testing force of her knee. Satisfied with her brief assessment, she sank down on her side and propped her head up with her hand. Shera looked like she was going to fall asleep right then and there.

"Eh," the sound of the floorboards filled the short silence between them "won't be up more than another hour." Cid didn't feel the need to specify what he planned to spend that hour doing. His voice was distant. A door squeaked open, and then snapped closed. He was back down the stairs in the time it took her to stuff a pillow under her head. Cid tossed a blanket (it was just as scratchy as the couch was, but it would do) over the back of the couch, and then leaned in to get a good view of his assistant's face.

Shera was giving him a strange look out of the corners of her eyes. Cid couldn't discern what is was supposed to mean. "I'll hold you to that." She lifted her hand from beneath her head to cover her yawn. She brought the blanket over her shoulders. "See you in the morning, Captain."

Cid had the urge to hold another conversation, but he knew better. Ought to leave her be and save his seducing for an appropriate hour. "See ya."

II.

Something groaned and jolted Shera from her deep sleep. She squinted and dragged her drooping hand across the cold surface of the hardwood floor. Her fingertips made contact with the thin frames of her fallen glasses. Sighing, she placed them on her nose and blinked away the hard brackets of sunlight that flashed through the blinds. This…was not her apartment, and this was certainly not her room.

The groan was there again and she gazed up at the source. A pipe that ran up from the wall was shifting. The sound of flowing water came to her ears. Another something was bubbling and whistling in the kitchen. Footsteps from above. Captain Highwind. Right, right…she remembered now.

"Maybe I should have taken the bed." Shera muttered to herself and rubbed out the ache in her side. With a stretch, some of her joints popped. Crossing the threshold into the kitchen, she found the pot on the stove noisily shrieking out steam. She clicked off the burner it sat on and rubbed her eyes. It occurred to her that she had no idea what time it was. Her next thought was to go in search of her phone. Ugh…where did she put her bag again?

"Hey, finally up, slacker?" Captain Highwind's voice almost made her jump out of her skin. She swiftly pivoted on her heel; careful not to anchor her hands behind her on the still hot stove. She intended to meet his face, but found herself taking in the sight of a bare chest. He had a clean shirt thrown over his shoulder, a comb stuck in his wet hairline, and it looked like he'd shaved.

"I…" Shera reminded herself to stop gawking. She didn't know what she was expecting. His current occupation made physical fitness a mandatory requirement, didn't it? "Apologize. I should have set an alarm last night. You wouldn't happen to know what time it is, Captain?" She sucked in her cheeks and redirected her eyes to his face.

"Seven somethin' somethin'." He waved his hand in a round-about sort of gesture. The Captain slicked back his hair with the comb, wedged it between his teeth, and then (to her slight disappointment) stuffed on his black t-shirt. He tucked it beneath his belted trousers and fully joined her in the kitchen. He seemed pleased that she turned down the burner ahead of him.

Shera nibbled her scrunchie down her wrist and threaded her fingers through her messy hair. She combed it back in place and secured the long strands behind her head. "Why do I get the feeling I've missed something."

"Couldn't have missed anything this early. When do ya clock on?" The Captain stuffed his comb in his pocket, brushed past her, and then dug around in one of the cupboards. He produced a mug and placed it down to pour the hot water for his breakfast.

Shera nibbled her bottom lip and studied the curve of his hairy forearms as he popped open a canister of sugar. "I clock on at nine. I usually get some work done ahead of time, though. It makes the day easier. I mean, I do have some of my work, _and_ your work to do."

"That so, huh? Maybe if you didn't mosey like a tortoise, you wouldn't have to drag your ass out of bed so early. Don't you ever take a break, Watts?" Cid's stirring spoon obnoxiously rattled against the ceramic inside of his cup.

Shera was slightly amused and allowed his comment to roll off of her shoulders. "Slow and steady wins the race. Slow down, jackrabbit." Her quip was rewarded with an immediate reaction. Captain Highwind's eyes narrowed and a sly smile made those charming dimples of his dent his jaw.

Shera retreated from the kitchen to retrieve her phone. She could feel his eyes on her back while finally remembering where she'd hooked her bag.

"I don't plan on takin' a nap, Ms. Ergs. " Captain Highwind paused to take a sip from the mug he had brewing. He didn't mind how scalding it was. It placed a fire in his belly that would probably keep him heated all morning. "You sayin' you're gonna pass me up? I don't even think we're in the same race."

Shera hummed and sighed at the sight of all the notifications that cluttered her phone screen. Some were from Palmer. Two missed calls. Most were from her nosy roommate. Ten overly concerned texts. She inwardly rolled her eyes and made it her next task to jog up to the bathroom.

"We could have been."

Now, what in the world did that mean? "Uh huh…I oughta kick you out for your smart mouth, if I owned this shack. So you're freezer burned molasses, and a goddamn riding crop. Some piece of work you are, woman."

 _Woman?_ "Captain Highwind, you're so kind. I should probably get going soon." Shera paused before she began her ascent up the stairs. The Captain looked like he was getting ready to depart. His smile was still present on his face while tearing his jacket from the rack peg.

"Smell ya later, Torque. And ah, don't forget to run those launch plans by me."

"Of course. I'll notify you when they recommence progress."

III.

Shera broke away from the general discussion the other head technicians were holding, and secluded herself in a relatively quiet corner. They were awful really; making bets on the cat. If she came back dead, it was back to the drawing board. If she came back alive? …again, back to the drawing board. She had explained that to Captain Highwind, and he had promptly ignored her. She simultaneously understood, and didn't understand his hurry.

"Hi, Maku…" Shera purposefully meekened her voice and cupped her hand around the receiver of her cell phone. She ignored it the first time, but knew better than to ignore it the second time.

"Sheraton, was I wrong to assume you'd call me every week?" Mother Joules' voice was neutral, but Shera could tell she was probably mildly upset.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I've been a bit busy. I've…" Shera unlocked her knees and bent to take a seat on the sturdiness of a metal beam. The soft evening light that fluttered in through the upper windows of the building were warm on her skin. She could feel it heating the fabric of her lab coat.

"Hm?"

"Sorry, I've been busy. They assigned me some addition tasks while I'm here." Shera shoved her glasses back up her nose. She turned her body more away from the entry; not wanting anyone to hear her conversation. "I can't talk for too long, either. They're going over the goals for this up and coming launch I'm required to be a part of this one. I think they want to give me some more responsibility." The thought made her giddy.

Shera could hear rushing water from a distant kitchen sink. Twinkling; probably the cat's bell. She imagined her mother's fat, black cat begging for morsels of dinner at her feet. "Another? And what assignments are they giving you?" Ms. Joules' voice meandered in tone. She probably wanted to discuss the topic Shera was trying to edge away from.

"They're sending up something living. A cat. Her name is Jupiter." Shera softly laughed. "I'll have to send you a picture. We received her fat, like your Chai, but she's been going through her own training. She's skinny now. Anyway," She snorted and regained her original train of thought "We got someone willing to be a ShinRa Celestialnaut. I've been volun-told to be his assistant and work on site with him."

"The Red Diamond has taken another poor sucker, is that right?" Ms. Joules' voice was musing. Shera could hear the distinctive snap of the microwave door in her mother's kitchen.

"Mama, don't say that. The Sucker isn't exactly poor, either. He's kind of…rough around the edges. Captain Highwind is the kahuna I've been duct-taped to. He was hired out of Weapons."

"Doesn't ring a bell. You sound like he's a trouble to be around."

"Not…exactly. He's a little different. Bearable. Kind of handsome."

Ms. Joules grunted. "A man, you mean. And don't get caught up in looking at his face. That's how they suck the soul out of you. One eyeful at a time."

" _Mother_." Shera sputtered like a horse. She lowered her voice a little further. "He keeps asking if I'd like to meet him places. He buys me lunch sometimes. And he flirts…I think?" If you muscled past his sharp backhand. "I think he likes me."

"Don't get caught up. Keep it professional. You know how that whole scenario goes. How old is he?"

"I'm not sure?" How young, or old Captain Highwind looked depended on his mood. "I have to go now, they're going to begin prep. I promise I'll call you."

"You said that last time…"

"I know. I love you, Mama. Bye."

IV.

Lucky little mother fucker.

Cid greedily eyed the sight of Jupiter being pulled this way, handled that way. It was all fucking ridiculous really. Maybe a good laugh even. They made the damn cat drop five pounds, trained her, and gave her her own little suit. Here Cid was in the prime of his age, anticipating history in the making _second_ to a cat who was oblivious to any concept of what she was participating in. Why a cat of all animals was beyond him, but he was without a doubt A: Jealous and B for BITTER.

And his assistant had the nerve to snap photos. Shera would take a picture or two, and then huddle with a grin over the bright light cast by her phone screen. Maybe that made him a little jealous, too.

Maybe what pissed him off the most, was the distant comments. Of course, ShinRa's Space Program was tracked through the media. It honestly looked like ShinRa was wasting its money on a cat of all things.

(When it could have been fully invested in him.)

Palmer seemed more nervous these days. Have to make good appearances, right? Cid caught ear that the President had stopped breathing down his neck, and was now setting a match to the gasoline under the fella's hot bench. They had one more year to make something worthwhile happen.

(Word was, the Red Diamond was getting big eyes and sharp, biting teeth at something else.)

V.

"Ah, Ms. Lady! There you are!" Shera could literally see the exclamation point ping over Palmer's head. He lit up at the sight of her, excited, and somehow he still couldn't remember her name. She knew his expression too well, that oh-so-jolly little glisten in his eyes. The Space Department director had yet, _surprise!_ another job for her to do.

"What can I do for you?" She removed a pair of gloves. They were covered in cat hair.

"This is going to be a really good one, I can feel it in my gut!" Palmer gave it a pat for good measure. "So, I figure you're my good luck charm, heh! I need you to uh, oh!" He pulled out a crumpled up list from his breast pocket. He squinted his eyes; seeming to have trouble reading his own handwriting. "Double, triple check the new chamber systems. I know you're thorough, so you'll do a good job, right?!" He firmly patted her back.

Shera smothered her instinct to shift her body off to the side. She politely nodded her head and forged a convincing smile. "Sure, of course. If I have at least a small team of good eyes. Those chambers and systems are enormous." He knew that, right?

"Whatever ya need! Say…" Palmer leaned in and wiggled his finger. He urged her to lean in for what she assumed would be some sort of 'secret', and was instantly wary. "If all of this goes dandy, the President will be really happy! With Cap'n up, it'll be even better! We have more projects in proposals to explore, get this, _outer planet resources_." Palmer leaned in a little closer. Apparently, he was going to mention something even more confidential.

"I see…" He was close enough for her to smell the coffee he had been drinking.

"I'd really wanna assemble a nifty team!" Palmer rasped. "If we get that far, I think you'd make a great addition as a specialist. We'll train you, too, heh heh!"

Shera pretended to cough. It was actually her suppressing her instant impulse to shriek.

VI.

She hoped no one had heard her hit her head. Shera groaned more than the pipe she'd run into. "You'd think they'd draw these maps up better." She puffed out her cheeks and quietly complained.

Minding her steps this time, she took a swift glance at the checking crew moving ahead to another chamber on a platform above. Shera took a pen from her lab coat pocket and crossed off the (thoroughly examined) sections she'd assigned herself to. One more stop before she could join the rest of the crew.

She untucked a clipboard from beneath her arm and pulled up the regulation numbers and directives for the ENGINE ROOM. "Let's see…" The LOX tanks were listed under the 'crucial machinery', so she figured she would assess them first. Shera craned her head upward over the massive tanks to view the pressurization meters. She cut her hazel eyes at the specified numbers, to the meters, and then back again…

"Who…the hell," She flipped the directive over and over, trying to make sense of what she was reading "wrote this?" The paper gave clear commands, but she was very sure that it was all _wrong_. Maybe the writer had mixed things up? Liquid oxygen needed to be monitored differently than gas. When the chamber warmed up during launch…She didn't even want to think about it. Shera would have to catch up to the rest of the crew later.

VII.

The damp chill of the night made Shera wish she had brought a blanket. It was still cold after all that time had passed. She would be glad when they started switching these launches to occur at reasonable times. It wasn't late at all, actually, it was entirely too early in the morning. The sun hadn't begun to rise yet. It was going to miss the show.

"So, did ya place a bet?" The tobacco in Cid's cigarette was long gone. He was satisfied with his one cancer stick for the night (morning? He hadn't slept) and was content with chewing on the orange filter.

"On Jupiter?" Shera resisted rolling her eyes. She shifted over to allow Captain Highwind to take a seat. They were observing from a good distance away on one of the lifts. The control room was buzzing in the distance. "No. I don't know what I'd bet on." That was somewhat of a lie. She just didn't want to think about it. All of it made her anxious. Her fingers and her hopes were crossed. _Please_ , let this go well. One step closer.

"Y'know, whether she's gonna come back." Captain Highwind plucked the filter from his mouth and flicked it off somewhere. Shera peered over at him. He was wearing a pair of brown, leather goggles on his forehead. She wondered where he'd gotten them from. "Probably wasn't smart to nab a cat. They've got nine lives, right?"

Shera's shoulders shook with her laugh. "So they say. I think her prior weight took lives one, two, and three. They've dropped her a few times. Whatever training they had her do has probably taken the rest."

"For all their goddamn fuss, she'd better come back. That's my hope." Captain Highwind propped his forearms on the rail and sighed. The dew that settled on the chipping pipes plastered his arm hair to his skin. The strong line of his neck and shoulders were exposed beyond the collar of his shirt. Every time he leaned over the rail a bit more, muscle rolled beneath the work tanned surface. He must have felt her watching. Shera adverted her eyes a split second before he turned his head.

"The eyewear is new." Shera folded her hands in her lap. The launch pad, though slowly, was starting to mist. She should have been in the control room, but it didn't appeal to her right now.

The Captain tapped one of the securing straps. "My mamma's barons. They're kinda old school. She made me promise I'd wear em' up. Not that they're gonna let me when I suit up, but it's worth a shot. Big hen won't stop askin' me when I'm gonna be on TV."

"They're going to televise the launch?" Shera's eyes widened behind the rims of her glasses. She didn't know why she hadn't assumed.

"Like hell they will! Everyone on this big hunk of rock ought to see me make history! I mean space, the great unknown! This mother fucker right here," The Captain have himself a hearty, audible pat on his chest "is gonna be up there with the stars."

Shera's expression softened. She lifted her knuckle and nibbled to distract herself from the blush that was filling her cheeks. She was glad the sun wasn't there to reveal her face. "I'm pretty envious, Captain."

"Envious?" One of his blond brows arched.

"What I wouldn't give to be in your place. Don't get me wrong, I really do love what I do now, but when they were first recruiting for the third phase of the program, I would have loved to have been drafted onto a flight team."

The Captain's features shifted. His expression became a mix between intrigue and incredulousness. "I feel like you make a lot more sense now, Hertz. What stopped ya' from begging for it?"

"The begging part." Shera sighed. In that moment, she wanted to lean against him. "And the being young part. And the part where I'm young and a _young_ _lady_ at the same time." Her tone dragged on the last statement.

"I forget about that." His face eased into nonchalance. "You act so old, I forget yer' young." Captain Highwind did something she wasn't expecting, and took her hand. Hers was tiny compared to his, and though equally worn by hard work, softer. She couldn't discern if he meant to observe something, or play with her fingers. It made the impulse to lean against him stronger. "Wouldn't take you up with me, though."

Shera's mystified expression dropped from her face and hit the ground several feet below them. "And why not…?" She could tell he was marinating in her response. Captain Highwind's eyes crinkled in absolute delight; just soaking in her expression. Shera made the most deadpan face she could muster.

"Because you work like the paleontologists dug you up, Joules."

"…" A silence stretched. Shera relaxed her bristled shoulders. "Did you run out of energy conversions, Captain?"

"Nah, I have four more I ain't called you yet. I just want you to know I hear ya." The Captain pulled her by her hand and draped his arm over her shoulders. He was warmer than she was expecting him to be. She could smell his long gone cigarette in his clothes.

The first tinges of orange hit the horizon. It wasn't the rising of the sun. The area intercom was loud and echoing across cleared out acers of land. 5…4…3…2

Shera didn't stop herself from leaning against Captain Highwind this time.

VIII.

The dumbest headline all year as follows: 

SHINRA POWER'S CALICO KITTY SAFE AND SOUND ON SOLID GROUND

ShinRa twenty five is a success! Company prepares to launch its first pilot into space to pave the way for future exploration. 

IX.

Alright, get a grip on yourself Highwind.

He was so excited he probably could have started salivating.

Cid's thigh jigged out on the other side of his high barstool. He was starving, but he couldn't force himself to eat no matter how hard he tried. He ran his mouth a mile a minute. And Shera let him talk and talk and talk, like she usually did.

"She won't come out from under the lobby desk, but she's fine." Shera tapped her spoon against her lips. The diner was busier than usual. Familiar, roughed up faces had piled inside to celebrate?

"Pft," Cid snorted and raised a mug of steaming coffee to his lips "she'll get over it." Everything went just as planned. More or less. The cat was still breathing, right? Which meant he'd have his turn now, finally. _Finally!_ "You know they're throwin' me the last leg of training. Palmer was squawking about some sorta press conference schedule."

Shera nodded her head; pony tail bouncing with the movement. She stuck her spoon back in her bowl and tilted her head to catch his eyes. "They're going to need you for a lot of documentation, Captain. You're the Space Department's poster boy."

He snickered at the thought. Cid placed his mug down and managed to fork up some sopping sweet pancakes. "Poster boy. I kinda like that. Why don't you start by taken more photos of me insteada' sunrises every damn morning."

Cid heard her hum and saw that feisty twinkle in her eye across the bar top. She was going to say something snarky, probably, but stopped herself. "What's wrong with sunrises? Besides, I'm sure the department plans to take plenty of pictures of you, once you've received all of your certifications. It's been a long course, hasn't it?"

He waited to finish chewing before speaking. "Long is an understatement, Ms. Chevaux. Boy, I tell ya. A roller-coaster wouldn't make me flinch now. If I haven't got a stomach made of steel from flyin', I sure as hell have one now."

She laughed. It was ginger and crisp; like a silver bell. "I can see you're excited. I'm excited for you, Captain." Shera's smile was all kinds of sugar. It took Cid a while to reply. It wasn't often that Shera smiled with her teeth. She had a slight gap between her front sets. With her ugly yellow sweater, and big granny glasses, she was the most adorable thing he'd ever laid eyes on. He wasn't the sort of man to hold butterflies in his gut, but they were making themselves known right then. Stomach of steel, his ass.

"Hey…" The butterflies in his stomach must have turned into obnoxious city pigeons. Cid had something he wanted to ask her, and he wasn't sure how. Uh, maybe he should have thought it over before opening his mouth, but it was way too late now. Her brows shot up on her forehead; seeming to sense that the change in topic was important.

"When I come back,"

"Yes?"

"They'll probably want me to see the President. I'll take ya into Midgar with me. On a real date. Got some stuff I wanna show ya."

"Oh…" Shera fiddled with her fingers. The long ends of her lower bangs swayed with her head.

Ah, fuckin'…maybe she didn't like him like that.

"Or, er, y'know, I could—"

"I've never been that far up before. I mean, I'm not from here, either. I'd love to go with you, Captain."

That was a yes, right? Get a fuckin' _grip_ on yourself, Highwind.

X.

"You can worry about all those faxes and forwards later, alright." Cid was bold enough to place his arm around his assistant's shoulders while they walked. She wasn't much shorter than him, and she appeared fully accepting of the gesture. He really did wish she didn't keep so much to herself. Cid wanted to know what she thought of him. Or if she had a boyfriend…or if she was looking for a boyfriend… Like he gave a damn about being professional.

Shera made a low sound. She jingled her apartment keys in her coat pocket, and batted a rock or two with the hard toe of her boot on the pavement. "I feel like I'm so behind, though. They also need me tomorrow morning after I'm done doing check-in with you. They're going to add some last refinements that will make twenty five, number twenty six. It'll be at least half year worth of work to really perfect things and secure another round of fuel for exit and reentry."

"Blah, blah, blah. Don't worry about all of that right now. You're off the clock. Don't you ever get work off your brain, Shera?" The feel of her first name on his tongue was a bit strange. He'd get used to it.

His assistant came to the stop at the top of the familiar terrace of her second story apartment. The front entry way to the double locked door was embellished in hanging pots; overflowing with vines and labelled herbs. There was a pair of yellow rain boots near the welcome mat, and an equally yellow watering can perched up on a cracked windowsill. "It doesn't feel like work when you love it, Captain."

"I can respect that." Cid stood there with her beneath the shade of greenery. The street thinned below as the equipment hauling trucks heaved by. "Call me Cid, alright? Off the clock."

"Hmm…I'll think about it. Thank you for the meal, and walking me home tonight. I really appreciate it." Shera produced the proper key from her cluttered keyring and poised it before the lock.

"Wait, a sec." Cid paused her. The fucking pigeons were back; flailing and smacking into the glass walls of his stomach. He moved slowly so he wouldn't startle her. Cid could clearly see her watch him take a gentle hold of her chin with his gloved hand. He leaned in, and she closed her eyes.

XI.

"NOOOOO, MAKU YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

"Sheraton Alani Joules if you don't stop with the screeching, _I'm going to hang up on you_."

"I'm sorry, Mama. I just, EEE! I…right, no screeching." Shera unattractively cleared her throat for emphasis. "I just wanted to tell you I had a good day." She folded her knees beneath her on the creaking cushion of her bed. Shera placed the pad of her finger along her bottom lip and gently rubbed. She could still feel how warm he was.

"It certainly sounds like it. Are you only going to call me when you have a good day now?"

"No, no, no…I have some things I'm going to send you in the mail, okay. Your birthday present, too." Shera gently sighed through her nose. She traced the full line of her top lip and tried to keep a grin from stretching her features.

"You can't pacify me with gifts, dearest, but I suppose I have no choice but to accept. I want you to call me more, okay. I get worried when you don't. You're there all by yourself."

"I'm not by myself, Mama. Miso is here, my roommate. And—"

"Captain Highwind? Is that what you were going to say?"

"Maybe. He keeps me company whether I want it or not." She giggled and immediately regretted it. Mother Joules gasped on the other end of the line. Shera was not a giggler, and hadn't done so since…

"So Cid from fourth period math pulled on your pigtails? Hm? Sheraton?"

" _Very funny mother._ Just because you've had a bad time with these demons you speak of, doesn't mean I will." Shera winced and pressed her teeth into her tongue. She shouldn't have said that.

"…"

"I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant." Ms. Joules tone was unreadable. "Call me back after you've showered. You should tell me more about him."

"Um, I will." Shera dropped her hand and pressed her lips into a guilty line. "See you in a little bit."


	3. Chapter 3

I.

She was humming this morning, which was somewhat out of the ordinary. It echoed through the metal lined chamber and drew him away from his own systems check. Cid had known Shera for a little over a year and a half now. When she clocked on, she was a pretty hushed worker bee. He could only assume that his last minute kiss during their departure last night had gone over well. He pressed his gloved hands into his jacket pockets, and took a few steps over a working platform to patronize her.

What was she doing anyway? All he could see was a wriggling spotlight and her held-high backside poking out from the split in her lab coat. Which, wasn't a bad sight.

"Hey, Shera!" Cid winced when he heard the distinctive thump of her back smacking into a pipe above. She hissed, shimmed out of the crawl space she'd wedged herself into, and curiously blinked behind a now crooked set of glasses. Boy, he knew how to scope em' out, didn't he?

"Sorry, Captain," despite being spooked, Shera offered him a very welcoming smile "I didn't hear you. Do you need something?" She dusted off the front of her lab coat, snapped off a pocket flashlight, and then pulled herself to her feet. The clip board she usually toted around with her had an endless chart of scribbled testing numbers.

"Not really." Cid crinkled his nose; debating a proper road to take in the conversation he'd initiated. He really wanted to ask her questions of a more personal nature; the status quo of their so called relationship, but he'd probably have to kick himself in the ass for it later. Better play it safe.

"I don't really need anythin', but Palmer says they're hookin' up a teleconference with the President sometime after lunch. Get the feelin' he wants you to take a seat."

Her head cocked back in slight disbelief. Diligently, Shera righted her glasses and blinked a few more times in bewilderment. "Me? I assumed it would be a little more exclusive, if they're going to be speaking with the president directly. I mean, I don't really know what I could offer in conversation." She nibbled on the cap of a pen. "There isn't anything you can't just say for me, or that you don't know."

"Hey, look, Shera, I don't call those shots." Cid shrugged his shoulders and pressed his hip into the safety rail. "I'm just gonna tell ya' what he told me:" He pressed the back of his tongue up against the roof of his mouth, making his tone congested. "Tell Ms. Lady she should come, too!"

Shera snorted; clicking her tongue at Cid's bad impression of the head of their department. "You think he knows my name at all?"

"Doubt it." Cid idly scratched his chin and narrowed his eyes. "Puttin' you in some big seats these days, huh. Wouldn't put it past me to say Palmer's sorta sweet on you."

Shera in no way, was able to control her gag. It contorted her entire face with pure disgust. It was Cid's turn to snort. In fact, his snort turned into an ugly, un-expecting laugh that echoed down to the rocket chamber below. He placed his hand over his mouth to muffle himself, and ease the assault on his sinuses. If he'd be drinking something, Cid was sure he would have spat it out. Could he rewind and get a fuckin' picture of that?

Guess he wouldn't have any competition with Palmer…

II.

The cushioned seat, one of many that lined the long conference table, hugged Shera's back and sides. She waited patiently, almost nervously for them to commence the conference call that would link the Rocket Division up with distant Midgar. She drummed anxious fingernails against the armrest and discreetly gazed from distracted face, to face.

She felt so out of place. There were a few people she recognized; department leaders a chair or two below Palmer, and maybe two or three above her. And then there was Captain Highwind, seated at the other side of the table directly across from her. He looked absolutely bored and ready for the conference to end before it even started. Maybe he was used to this sort of thing?

"Alright, dialed out!" Palmer clasped and then rubbed his hands. Eyes eager, he pressed the speaker call button and fiddled with the volume. Everyone was silent while the red, glaring light of the dingy office phone stopped blinking and became fully lit.

"Hello~!" A voice chirped through the static of the shotty connection.

Shera wasn't expecting a voice so high pitched. Um, she was expecting a man, obviously. Whoever the speaker was, they were a woman. A secretary maybe? She lifted her eyes, meaning to communicate her confusion to Cid ahead of her, but he was too preoccupied with glowering at the phone. That confused her a bit more.

"Uh, uh? S-scarlet, hey-hey!" Palmer huffed "We're supposed to be speaking with President ShinRa!"

"I know that." The chipper tone in the speaker's voice vanished. "He's busy. You're just going to have to listen to little ol' me. Make it quick." She snapped.

The Captain squared his jaw and clenched his teeth on the inside of his mouth. Shera could hear them clicking as he began to respond before Palmer could form a word. "He's s'posed to be busy speakin' with us. Put em on the line." His nostrils flared. Shera was more than sure now that she had missed something.

"Ew? Do I know you?" Scarlet smacked her lips. The phone line crackled. "As I was saying. I haven't got all day. What does the Space Department have to officially report? Time is money. I'm sure you've wasted enough of both."

There was a brief, tense pause. Captain Highwind had abruptly stood up from his seat; red in the face. Palmer flailed his arms in trying to prevent his prime employee from ripping the phone from the hook and 'speaking' with Scarlet more personally.

"We are on the record," Shera began. There was another short silence. Everyone including the Captain, directed their attention to her. "ready to begin a launch containing human life." Her throat began to dry. "Rocket modifications should be complete within this year. The president can expect the launch this coming late fall. "

"Hm…go on."

"We'll…ah, we'll fax the official budgeting for fuel, custom machinery, and labor. Once we're sure of survival and effects pertaining to space flight, we'll move forward with exploration of lucrative resources." Shera licked her lips. "With the President's permission, of course."

"Well, well. That's all you had to say. So, I guess that's that." Scarlet snickered. There was a sharp, metallic screech in the background of her end of the already struggling call, that made everyone flinch in their seats.

"Like I said, very _important_ things happening _here_. Ciao."

And just like that. The call was over.

III.

"Captain…" Shera crossed, and then re-crossed her legs over the cushion she'd placed for herself on the floor.

The air was luke-warm and humming with the sound of the working air conditioning of Captain Highwind's living quarters. She had long placed her paper work aside, and secluded herself to the make shift 'living room'. Back propped against the couch, she stabbed a spoon through long cold, half-baked cookie dough, and listened to the Captain muttering to himself at the working table in the kitchen area.

"What." He grunted.

"Who is Scarlet?"

"You mean to tell me," something clattered to the table like he threw it down "that you work for ShinRa, and don't know who that she-monster is?" He sounded clearly frustrated, or irritated. Probably both.

"Well, I was hired straight here, Captain. I haven't worked under any other departments." She pushed herself up and took her cup with her into the kitchen. Shera ate the rest of the dough at the bottom, licked sugar from her upper lip, and began to wash the mug at the sink.

"She's head of Weapons. I worked there as one of her flyin' monkeys." The Captain spat. "She's…fuckin' _awful_. Can summon Lucifer by lookin' in a mirror. I can't even tell you half of the stuff she's wanted us to do, or half the stuff she's done. And y'know what?!" He barked. "I bet she ain't gonna mention a DAMN THING to the President."

"Are you sure you can't? What was so bad about her?" She was curious now. Shera slowed her scrubbing and turned the water down to listen.

"Well, for one, she wanted us dropping custom ground splitters on civilians. I have to draw lines, y'know? Didn't see much point in being a military pilot just so she could test out her big guns on folks who ain't got nothin' to do with nothin'. Not a goddamn drop of honor or worth in that."

Captain Highwind's shoulders sank and he deeply sighed. "I let her know she was fucking crazy, and the Stone Cold Bitch kicked me out. Took my beaut', my darlin' with her."

"Your…?" Shera frowned.

"My ship, dammit! She fuckin' took my airship and rubbed her little imp fingers all over it!"

Imp? Shera gave him a questioning expression, and he shot her a responding look that let her know he wasn't going to delve into the topic. "I didn't even know you had a ship, Captain. That's terrible."

"Hey, _The_ _Highwind_ and my last name ain't a coincidence. I designed that ship. It's what she hired me for, schematics, and then she waved her wand and turned me into one of her drones. Well, for as long as I could bear anyway. I'm pretty damn lucky Palmer was digging through the trash, otherwise I wouldn't be a damn treasure in this department. How lucky am I?"

"Well," Shera pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek "maybe once you gain a little fame, you'll be able to snatch it back from her?"

"Joules, in my wildest dreams." The Captain expelled one last sigh, and then collected his tools from the table top. "But I'm likin' the idea. Least I got to keep my Bronco."

Shera placed her mug on the kitchen rack to dry. She pivoted on her heel to face him. "And what might that be? "

"The Bronco, _Tiny Bronco_ , that's my water landing plane. Flew it here when I got transferred. It's locked up in the garage across the ways now, but, I'll take you on a ride when everythin's said n' done, and we're headed to Midgar to get our pat on the backs."

Shera smiled at the thought, and then crossed her arms over her stomach. "Do you think she really won't say anything to President ShinRa, though?"

"Palmer's sweet on you."

"Please…do not remind me."

"And Scarlet ain't sweet on nothin'. Not everyone sees the point in what we're doing here."

"…Understood."

IV.

It felt a lot like graduation all over again.

Cid turned his head from side to side and gazed at himself in the mirror provided by the facility. Prior to arriving, he'd had his hair neatly cut, and shaved his chin for good measure. He felt official, like a real hero, with his shoulders squared. Looked like one, too. He grinned to the technician behind him in the reflection, who had been drilling him on how to take the layers of his suit on and off. He memorized every bit and piece. Cid knew what went where, when, and how.

"You coulda turned around a long time ago." Cid clutched his shiny, Celestialnaut helmet under his arm, and placed his free hand on his hip.

"Nobody gave me the cue." Shera swiveled around in her chair. She took a moment to get a good look at him almost fully suited in his Cabin Gear. She playfully whistled. "Well, look at you. I do like a man in uniform."

"Shit, I'll keep that in mind, Joules."

The aiding technician rolled his eyes and excused himself to the other room. "You have ten minutes before they're ready for the photos, Captain."

"Rodger, I'll haul myself there in a sec." Cid flashed Shera a very excited grin. He wasn't able to contain it; he was just so damn happy. There wasn't any other way to say it.

"You look… you look really good." Shera laughed, the silvery one he really liked, with the same amount of excitement and stood to sample the material covering his arm. She was very cautious of what she touched, which was understandable. His suit was probably worth more than either of them would ever make in two lifetimes. "It'll be a good photo, Captain."

"I've got all of my certificates squared away, and I concluded training last month. I mean, get a fuckin' load of these patches, huh? Boy Scouts ain't got a damn thing on me. Guess these are my first reward." He arched his brows. Cid's smile remained just as proud and toothy.

"I hope you don't mind if I give you a second. I figured I'd wait until launch a few months from now, but maybe summer just has me in a good mood." Shera boldly motioned for him to lean down with her hand.

Cid's tongue swept across his bottom lip in anticipation. He tried to keep himself grounded, but man, the whole day had him on the highest bird. Nothing could get any better than this.

V.

"Hey, wait!" Cid held up his hand to pause the photographer. They had just finished setting the miniature model of the rocket behind him, and poising the company flag.

"I ain't takin' the picture if I can't have my assistant in it with me."

"Uh, Captain…we're really pressed for time here we've got to—"

"Hey, y'heard me! C'mon Joules, come in here and put your hands on my shoulders!"

VI.

It felt so odd to receive a day off. She figured maybe the hired out mechanics were trying to shoo her away, so they could have some breathing room on her vacation days. Shera didn't mean to hover in every nook and cranky of the massive project, but she was growing more anxious with each passing day. She had marked the date on her calendar.

3-2-1, lift off…

If only it were sooner. Patience, Patience, Patience.

Shera ripped her eyes away from the marked date on her pin board, and then sank down in bed. She figured on a day off, she'd spend her time sleeping in till the late afternoon, but it was only nine, and her mind, and busy bee body refused to allow her to lie in the comfort of her cot any longer.

So… what to do? She'd reviewed the schedule over and over and over again. Printed spare copies, even. There wasn't an event she wasn't aware of, so no point in pretending to 'catch up'. Shera sighed and began to wonder if they'd allow her to tour the launch pad if it was for pure leisure, but she supposed, her co-workers knew her better by now.

"Nothing like a bored day off…" Shera muttered and groped her nightstand for her glasses. She placed the frames on her face, flicked off her bedside light, and traded the light source for a now uncovered window. There was a slight breeze past the warming glass. Mellow morning sunlight kissed and shimmered over the vines and ferns that grew over her patio. Clouds brushed the high tops of the distant mountains. The sky was a vibrant, reborn blue, like the ocean back at home. A beautiful day with nothing to do. But, that wasn't her style now, was it? Shera Alani Joules was born to be kept busy.

Letting out a rather unattractive grunt, Shera peeled herself from the top of her comforter, slipped on a pair of shorts, then a set of wedged flip flops, and then unlocked the other apartment door. The breeze carried through the strands of her hair. She could always waste her time gardening and people watching and neglecting to call her mother and thinking about her 'supervisor' romantically and actually really really _really_ hoping she could just get back to work.

Shera screwed her face up at no one but herself and trotted around the bend in the patio to the front corner holding the main door to her shared apartment. After filling a yellow watering container up, she began walking from pot to pot. She only missed home sometimes, and her mother's garden was probably a big reason why.

Mother…Mom…Mama…Maku…hm….

She really needed to call her. It'd been uh, a month? Or two, possibly four since she'd actually called and not sent her something interesting in the mail in hopes of assuring her she was still alive. It was just so hard. She loved her mother, but not being obligated to talk to her every day due to proximity was just too much of a luxury. Shera thought herself horrible for thinking so.

"Flowers stressing you out that much, ma'am?"

Shera snapped up from her bench pot of lavender. A bit of water escaped the top opening of her can in her haste to find the source of the sudden voice. It trickled down her legs and seeped into the concrete beneath her feet.

"Um, no. I stress myself out." She spotted her unexpected visitor some short ways down on the rail. He made a partial ascent up; keeping a polite distance at the last step to the top.

"May I come up?" He asked. The man's dark eyes were neutral. It was hard to see him speak beneath the scruff of his beard.

"Depends." Shera placed her can down. She remembered him now. He was the fellow from forever ago at the diner. "What's your business, Mr. Stranger?"

Mr. Stranger chuckled. "It's Robin. You're Ms. Joules, right?" She didn't tell him he could come up yet, but he took the liberty of fully stepping up to the terrace anyway. "I was asked to give you this."

Shera cautiously crossed the patio space and took a manila parcel from his outstretched hand. "What is this?"

"Don't know. I was just told to give it to you." The look in his eyes shifted. Shera could feel him fleetingly examining her. "You work with Cid, don't you? You're his assistant?"

She wasn't in the mood to hold a conversation. Shera nodded her head. "Yes." She curtly answered. "But I work with a lot of people. I really need to get back to work here. Lots to do." She lied.

"Alright, alright. I can see when I'm getting the boot. Tell Cid, Robin says 'congrats'." Something about the way he said it didn't sound all that genuine. Robin's smile wasn't all the way there either while tipping an invisible hat in departure. His eyes, with that look she couldn't place her finger on, swiftly traveled her before he was out of sight down the stairs.

VIII.

After being made uneasy, Shera tossed the parcel down on her bed, and continued meandering through her day. After being out on the patio tending to plants, and taking a short break to acquire some sweets from the nearby corner store, she retired again to her bed and checked her phone for messages. It was hardy three in the afternoon. So much for keeping busy.

Two texts from Miso saying she'd be home late. A phone call from her mother (cringe). Three texts from Palmer because he'd forgotten she was off. And one from Captain Highwind. She read the Captain's first:

 **Call me when you can! I got the picture this morning. They're putting the jumbo one up in the hall. Damn, I look good. You do, too, Jolts.**

"Picture?" Shera placed her phone down to take up the parcel on her bed. She ripped back the bubble wrapped tab and slid something heavy out from the inside.

OH!

The official photography of ShinRa's first Celestialnaut (if you didn't count Jupiter) …and his assistant standing behind him with her hands on his suited shoulders. Shera bit her cheek and clutched the expensive frame against her chest.

Okay, NOW, she had to call her mother.

IX.

" _Sheraton, are you only going to call me to squeal now?!"_

X.

"You get to see all the real action. I'm stuck in the communication center. Did I tell you human resources sucks?"

"Yes, Miso. You tell me almost every day." She blew over the steam that wafted her nose. It was rice and lightly fried chicken for dinner. Shera didn't have anything else better to do, so she'd cooked before her roommate made it home. Now they were both moping in front of the television. The news was relatively uneventful.

"Almost? Almost every day? Looks like I've got to step my game up. You're about to hear it every day of the week. If I was any good at math, I think I'd like your pay." Miso spoke over her stuffed mouth. She plopped her bottom down on the coffee table, partially blocking the view to the television.

Shera nudged Miso in the back with her foot. "You don't want my job. All they do is ask you to do things they could be doing themselves.

"And then your semi-boss barks up your tree on job, and then tries to make out with you after hours?" Her roommate's silky black hair rolled over her shoulder. Miso's soft almond eyes crinkled with the crane of her neck to look Shera in her face and snicker.

"For the record, he barks up my tree after hours, too."

"OOOOOOOOO!"

" _NOT IN THAT KIND OF WAY."_ Shera full out shoved her with her heel. Miso caught herself in the carpet; holding her bowl high to keep it from spilling.

"Oh my~! I didn't know you were that kind of girl, Shera."

"Miso, that's not even funny. It's not like that, it's—" Shera would have finished her statement if Captain Highwind's voice hadn't startled her. Hazel eyes darted to the source: ah, the television.

Wait? The television? Shera severely leaned over and turned up the sound using the remote.

"There goes your man, Sherry Berry."

The Captain was seated in some sort of burgundy mechanic's jumper with the company's logo plastered and patched in every available corner. A reporter sat on his other side, asking him several enthusiastic questions.

" _So, Captain Highwind, in closing, how would you summarize your journey so far? Has it been tough at all?"_

The stubble was gone, but the Captain scratched his chin out of habit, and then answered. _"It's been hard as… I don't know what."_ Shera shook her head. There should have been a curse in there somewhere. _"Takes a lot of know-how, and a lot of determination to participate in this sorta training. I'd wrap it up by sayin' we'll reap what we sow, eh? When it's all said n' done, we'll have something really spectacular to continue on with."_

" _Fair enough! I'm sure it'll jump start a whole world of discovery. But, I do have to ask, aren't you nervous at all?"_ The interviewer laughed. _"You'll be the first person to ever do something like this."_

" _I'm Fu-%#!n' terrified."_ Captain Highwind's mouth slipped and they barely bleeped it out. " _But it's a good sort of fear, y'know. Keeps ya in check."_

"Oh my god, Shera." Miso was highly amused. She took the remote from her to turn it up more.

"I know…" Shera could only continue to shake her head.

" _I…I think I like that answer."_ The interviewer was regaining his composure. It seems the Captain had totally missed what the man was flustered for and was still nonchalantly seated. _"One final question, what do you plan to do after you make it back home? If you are coming back?"_

Captain Highwind narrowed. _"I'll be coming back, and stickin' around. Don't you worry. I mean, why wouldn't I come back? I've got a date soon's I get used to gravity again."_

The interviewer whistled. _"Oh-ho! That so?! Lucky them!"_

The Celestialnaut charmingly grinned, adjusted a pair of brown goggles strapped to his forehead, and then winked. _"Y'sir."_

" _Well that's all the time we have here. Thank you again, Captain Highwind for taking the time to answer some of our questions, and good luck to you in these coming months. Now, to our top story at eight, General Sephiroth—"_

Miso swiveled around on her bottom, probably giving herself carpet burn. Her mouth was gaping while she drew in a dramatic gasp.

"AM I SPEAKING TO LADY LUCK HERSELF?"

"Miso…please don't do this."

XI.

The battery light of Shera's phone flickered beneath the cover of her bangs. She'd turned off the light hours ago, expecting to find sleep, but only found herself staring at the ceiling. Maybe she just wasn't exhausted like she normally was; tired enough to have no choice but to sleep.

"Hey, I was wonderin' when you'd call."

"Hi," Shera hushed her voice so her roommate wouldn't hear her over in the other room. She reached over to turn on her lamp light. "I got the picture, and I saw your interview earlier. Everything's happening so fast, yet so slow. I'm ready for countdown, but I'm so nervous." Shera twirled a bit of her bangs around her finger.

"You'n me both, Shera."

She shivered. Captain Highwind's voice was textured by recognizable tiredness. Shera liked the way he'd said her name. Deep and tangy. "I shouldn't say that. I'm not the one who's going to be leaving."

"S'alright. I'm ready to go. So tired of bein' on the ground. I wanna fly, higher than anyone's ever gone before. S'cuse me if I'm gettin' sappy on ya. I've just wanted this since I could talk." She could hear something creaking in the background of the speaker. Springs maybe? Was he in bed, too?

"I don't mind, Captain. I…" Shera lowered her voice just a bit more "I may not have flight in my heart, but I've always loved stars, exploration, man power. If it's one thing I appreciate, it's great minds merging with hard word. So, I apologize if I'm getting sappy, but I'm very proud of you. You're almost there."

The only reply was silence. It stretched on a good while. Shera was beginning to think she'd said something wrong.

"Shera?"

"Yes, sir…?"

"That means the world to me." Cid yawned. "Don't er, go tellin' everyone I'm a sugar cube, but I really 'preciate that. You're a pretty good gal. Bet you'd make a pretty good woman."

Her laugh came out in a short huff of air through her nose. Shera curled in on herself and tried to keep her smile from seizing her face. "You think so?"

"Don't really know. It's sorta a hunch. I think any fella'd be lucky to have you."

"Only one true way to find out, Captain."

"Know-it-all." The Captain's laugh was a husky one. "That's my girl. I'll catch you and your smart mouth later, Shera."

 _That's my girl._

"Catch you later, Cid."

Shera's heart got to thumping in her chest. Maybe this was what people were talking about when they mentioned falling in love.

Sappy.

XII.

Fast, but just not fast enough? Shera was starting to wish time had kept that initial pace The last three months leading up to history in the making became a whirlwind of activity and preparation. She was characteristically a hard worker, but she could admit, she had never worked this hard in her life. Two more weeks. The cameras were rolling in. The town, as they would call it now, was congested. It was down to the wire.

She was used to late nights, but she pushed through her tiredness into early mornings, and many, many cups of cold coffee. It was all a good distraction. She kept thinking about the fellow she'd been 'duct taped' to. She had hoped to be out of his hair in the beginning, but now all she wanted to do was follow him around. Every time she talked to Cid, looked in his eyes, she felt like she could do anything she wanted. His energy, as light heartedly mean as he was, was invigorating. A gust of wind that rivaled the one that quaked the Nibelheim mountains.

All the interviews, and the photos, and the conferences, and company endorsements. She wished she could a part of it all just like Cid was, but she had just as an important job to do backstage. Just like the job she had ahead of her now.

Shera felt more jittery than usual while she traveled from beam to metal beam. This rocket, this big hunk of blood, sweat, and machinery, might as well have been an adopted garden. She was off the clock, but she came down to the launch pad on her own to run a routine check. Like crawling out of bed and sliding the patio door open. Maybe it was over watering, and over pruning, but she couldn't help it. Everything had to be healthy and ripe; _perfect_.

"Good, good, good…bad." She mumbled to herself; using her pocket flashlight to check on one of the pressure monitors. The LOX tanks in the ENGINE ROOM were always her first cautious stop. She had sent a directive reform in to the coordinator above her, and it seemed to be spotty in carrying through. Sometimes Shera drifted down to the compartment and they were all correct in pressurization, and other times, an odd sort would be off or just completely wrong.

Honestly, who kept fucking _this_ up? This was why she took her time and double, triple checked. She expelled a bitter sigh, and slid a compartment latter out from its space saver notch. Making sure it was firmly in place, Shera wedged her pen between her teeth and made a slow climb up the enormous container to the manual adjusters.

"If I 'ave to change this one more 'ime, I'm 'oing to scream." She grumbled through the bit in her mouth, and made a mental note to send another mandatory reform. She couldn't imagine the sort of disaster this would have created if Cid made exit. The thought made her cringe.

Hopefully the coordinator wouldn't be too busy schmoozing the higher ups at the preparatory company banquets. This wasn't something you overlook, or forget about. She shouldn't have to explain to them how crucial it was.

XIII.

Her pace was so quick, Cid almost missed her. He crunched an empty beer can in his fist and tossed it into an outdoor trashcan. Taking up a jog, he caught up to her a short block down.

"Shera! I've been lookin' for ya! Didn't see you down at the bar. Too good to slack off like the rest of us?" Her pace only slowed by a small fraction. Cid couldn't imagine what she was in such a hurry to get to.

"Oh, sorry. I've just been checking on things. I need to get this to the front desk before it closes." She paused to allow some hauling trucks to mosey by. Shera caught her breath under the light of a corner lamp post. She chuckled. In the light, she could see Cid had a bit of cake frosting on his chin.

"You been up at the launch pad?" Cid wiped the crumbs away with his forearm, and then righted his flight jacket. "It's late, and everyone's kinda just been takin' it easy. There's a lot of folks tappin' mugs down in the dining district. I doubt anyone's tending that desk."

"I just want to make sure. The sooner I get this in, the better." She was revving up her engine again, and Cid reached out to take a hold of her shoulder and stop her.

"Hey, Shera. You've been a cluckn' hen this whole damn time. I've hardly get to see ya. We're all havin' a good time. Would it hurt to come and take it easy, too?" Cid fully caught her gaze. Her hazel eyes widened behind her glasses, and then darted off to the other side of the street.

"I suppose I could." She swayed in conflict.

"They'll be there tomorrow." Cid spun Shera around, and hooked her arm in his. "Tell ya what. How's about we ditch the partyin', and I'll show ya something special?"

XIV.

"He's not all that big, or anythin', but here he is. This is my Bronco!" Cid was waiting for her reaction. Shera curiously stepped up to the belly of his plane, and stepped up on one of the props to get a better look at the interior. Her head craned up to view the stilts and under-wings. There was a light, pleased smile on her pretty little face.

"He's uh, got a real kick in em, though." Cid rubbed the underside of his nose with his knuckle. His voice echoed in the hollowness of the storage house. "Whatdya think?"

"Kick in him, huh? Does he buck like a bronco, sir? It's a very nice plane." Shera hopped down; allowing Cid to unlock and peel open the company branded door to the inner seating.

"Somethin' like that." He gestured to her, letting her know she was allowed inside.

Shera sank down in one of the seats; equally pleased with the look and feel of the interior as she was with the outside. She nosily peered at the controls and dials that crowded around the steering. "You fly this all by yourself?"

"Yep, mostly. Could use a co-pilot if I had any room." Cid suggested more than he mentioned. "That's alright, though. Ever flown before?"

"Never have, sir." Plenty of boats, and ferries. But never a plane.

"We'll change that." He took her hand to guide her aside so he'd have more room to sit. Shera side saddled his seat. She was visibly flustered by their proximity. Cid had looped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"I wouldn't have a reason to be nervous, right? You did say you were the best." She pressed her cheek against the firmness of his shoulder.

"Did I say best? I meant the fuckin' greatest pilot ShinRa's ever had. You won't have to worry." Cid snickered. "I'll make ya the best co-pilot first chance I get. That sound good to you?" He leaned down; beckoning Shera's lips to his. She couldn't have known what he really meant.

"Sounds good to me." Shera placed her hand on his cheek and allowed him to kiss her.

XV.

Parallel stilts of light flooded in from some of the open warehouse shutters. Shera squinted; allowing her eyes a moment or two to adjust. She hadn't forgotten where she was. How could she? Cid's breath was light against her ear. He was a snorer, apparently.

She gradually lifted her head from his chest to gaze at his sleeping face. One firm arm was draped over the small of her back. His partially bent knee acted as a guard to keep her from tipping over in the seat they'd slept on. Shera's eyes flicked up to the absence of the usual tense in his brows. When he was asleep, Cid actually looked how young she assumed he was.

God, he was so attractive. What in the world was his interest in her?

She nibbled her lips, still tender from how long they'd been kissing last night. Shera noticed the hickey she'd given him on his neck and inwardly lectured herself in her mother's tone of voice. Maybe now was not the time for that. What time was it, anyway?

"I don't mean to intrude…"

Shera bolted upright. Cid's snoring abruptly clogged with her sudden movement. She could feel his breathing shift with his chest. He grunted, smacked his lips, and sat up beneath her.

"Um, hello."

"We kinda have to make some room in the warehouse so…" Robin glared at the both of them from below. It was a steady glower; enough to make Shera uncomfortable.

"Fuck off. I'm payin' to keep my plane here like everyone else."

"That's just like you, Highwind. Very sweet." Robin rolled up the sleeves of his working jump suit. "Maybe your assistant here has some better sense, or have you zapped her brains incubus-ing around? Look, I hate to be mean, but we need to move the plane. President's son'll need to keep his private jet here."

"The president's son is coming? Why not him himself?" Cid pressed on Shera's hip, and she wriggled onto her feet.

"Maybe he doesn't care all that much. Not my business. My business is moving this plane."

"I'll move it my damn self." Cid snapped. He snagged his jacket from the back of a chair and ushered Shera out. He slammed the door closed; shooting Robin a warning glare back. The space between them crackled.

Shera silently watched the exchange. She was really starting to wonder.

* * *

 **In light of the events, that I'm sure you're sure is to come, I'd like to mention that I'll being switching up and recontextualizing some of the original game dialogue. Just to keep things cohesive, and I mean, who really wants to read all of that over again word for word. Kinda boring.**

 **Until next time!**

 **Pop me a review if you enjoy so far. I love to hear thoughts and questions.**

 **Cause it's going to get rough…**


	4. Chapter 4

I.

Cid was going to have to remind himself to cut back on the sugar. If the pre-rocket launch celebrations were going to be like this, he couldn't imagine the sort of rowdy shit that was going to go down after he came back. Man, the town was full of roughed up knuckles and hicks, but boy did they know how to pop it off.

The Captain was on his second beer, and possibly third slice of cake (maybe tenth slice for the whole week) when the loss of the sun slowly robbed the interior of the diner of light. It was almost too loud down in the dining district to focus on anything. You'd think it'd be easy to stare out a restaurant window, but bodies passed this way and that way, and bursts of laughter blared from every other corner. He could see why Shera, as quiet as she was, might not have wanted to come down this way again. He'd texted her before loitering in his usual seat at the bar top.

Snickering, Cid had shaken off some passing, congratulatory pats on the back, and nosy faces trying to sneak a gander at his phone screen over his shoulder. He got a very late reply; of course, Joules was working. Placing his phone away in his pocket, Cid clicked his tongue in disappointment and poised his bottle to his lips for another swig of his drink.

"Shouldn't you be refining things with the main crew, Highwind?" The barstool at Cid's side swiveled and squeaked. He didn't need to look to see who it was; he could smell Robin's cologne before he sat. "Spend what? Two years? Getting ready for the whole shebang, only to get rusty two days before."

"You know, Rob, it don't take any energy to mind your own damn business. But you never could do that, could you?" Cid downed the rest of his bottle, and sat up straight in his stool. He pushed the empty container over with all the others and the glass between them loudly clinked. Grunting, Cid made himself more interested in the rest of his cake. Robin was the last person deserving of his spare attention.

"Ah, Cidney, you've always been a sweetheart. I'll take the kind advice to heart." Robin muttered and pressed his elbows down on the wood tap. Leaning over, he propped his chin on the back of his folded hands. "Didn't mean to kick you out the other morning."

"Yeah, you did."

"It was just corporate. That's all." A waitress came around to Robin's side, and slid a plate of something hot and fresh in front of him. The other man whispered a thank you, and then opened up some rolled up silver wear. The bartender, who pretended to not be listening to anyone in particular, replaced Cid's empty bottle with another, and then set one out for his unwanted company.

Cid took up the replacement bottle after his cake was gone. He paused to wash out his mouth with the cold, frothing liquid before speaking again. This time, he offered Robin unfriendly eye contact. "Wanna tell me why you're talkin' to me?" The Captain narrowed his eyes further and pursed his lips over the edge of his bottle's opening. He was trying to read the other man's intentions, but beard and all, his face was like wood.

Robin's temple twitched with the slight clenching of his jaw. He prodded the gravy drizzling his dinner steak with a fork. "Just wanted to chat." There was a low exhale through his nose; mutual irritation. "Nothin' more than that. I take it you've been really busy. Wouldn't think you'd have time to spare hanging around here."

"I don't want a damn thing to do with you, and you still find a way to chaperone my fuckin' time. Hey, look, I _have_ been busy, so I figure I deserve some time to do what I damn well please before I take off. Do you have a problem with that, too?"

"What you damn well please?" Robin spoke around a full mouth. He wiped the corners with a napkin, and then dryly laughed. His smile was a bitter one, Cid could tell. "That's real funny, because, I'm sure 'what you please', is _all_ you've ever gotten to do."

The Captain slammed his bottle down on the counter top. His jaw and chin dimpled with annoyance. He could see the bartender slow his spot cleaning at the corner of his eye.

"So you came and bothered me so you could throw another fucking pissy fit? Is that it, huh?" He should have known. Robin did this every damn year since they split. Every. Damn. Year.

It was usually some bitter griping, but in all, it always boiled down to

"Just came to remind you, that you can't cut me off. I'm here whether you like it or not."

That.

"I'm not doin' this with you again. Move the hell on." Cid purposefully neglected to raise his voice; as much as he wanted to. "You weren't qualified. Still aren't qualified. Do something else. Or do all of your talents fall under vindictivism?"

"That's a big word coming out of you." Robin calmly reached over the barrier of space between them and took a hold of Cid's bottle. His brown eyes gleamed as he raised it to his lips and swallowed down a considerable amount. Cid would have punched him if he wasn't currently in his right mind…and maybe if the bartender wasn't coiled like a rattle snake.

Muscling past the liquid anger drumming in his ears, Cid rummaged around in his coat, and pulled out a cigarette from the carton in a breast pocket. He found the lighter soon after, and then dragged over an unused ashtray when it was lit. "Find somewhere else to sit. I'm fine by myself."

"Fine by himself, eh?"

Robin hummed low from somewhere in his throat and his shoulders stiffened. Once Cid's bottle was empty, he moved on to the beer that was intended for him. While turned, his eyes were hidden; shadowed beneath the light of the overhead restaurant lamp. Swirls of fresh cigarette smoke rose over their heads. The way it plumed, it could have stood-in for the contempt Cid would have been puffing from his flared nostrils otherwise.

The Captain's unwanted company stuffed a bit more food in his mouth, and spoke again around it as if the chalky, tobacco air surrounding them wasn't stretched like an aimed rubber band. Cid was expecting him to continue to bitch and gripe, but he changed the subject.

II.

"So when are you gonna go rotten on her?"

"Excuse me?" Cid plucked the filter from his lips and ashed his cigarette in the tray. Though still full of rowdy patrons, the interior had grown even darker as it revolved from evening into night.

"The half breed you yank around on a leash."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"Your hapa girl. Hear she's one of those frumpy but sweet types." Robin finally got around to meeting Cid's eyes again. The Captain was visibly turning red, but Robin's expression was just as steady as when he sat. Whether he was being mischievous or fully serious; it was hard to tell.

"Had to bring something to her the other day, actually. She looks a lot different without the work clothes. Shera, that's her name right?" Robin knew exactly what her name was. He placed his fork down to pensively rub his covered chin. "Had on a pair of shorts, I think, on her porch. Man," He whistled "damn, nothin' but legs and thighs. I didn't think soft girls were your thing. You'd bruise her up with that booby-trapped personality of yours."

Without another word, Cid pulled himself up from his bar stool, and smothered his cigarette in the rest of Robin's meal.

The bartender couldn't have moved fast enough. A crack and shatter of sound, specifically, from a bottle making contact with the back of Robin's head, left the diner instantaneously silent. The bell rang on Cid's way out.

III.

Sometimes, Cid's moods were hard to decipher, but Shera could tell he seemed a little sour this morning. His name was being called this way, and that way as they were going over a few last minute details for the big day tomorrow. She wanted to scurry about in the same excitement, but things didn't feel quite right. Being aware of his momentary lack of enthusiasm made it hard to focus.

"Are you feeling alright today, Cid?" Shera tapped the material of his under-jumper. They had just finished making sure everything was still properly functioning on his cabin suit.

The tension over Cid's brows eased, if only a little. His eyes flickered in her direction. The sea water of his irises were still distant, but warmed considerably. "M' alright. Just thinkin'." The Captain offered his assistant a smile in assurance. He rubbed the underside of his nose, partially from anxiousness and hay fever, and finished removing the rest of his black protective wear.

Shera turned her back to give him some privacy. "Are you…nervous?" He'd probably been asked that more times than he could count by now, but she didn't know what else to say.

The sound of him clearing his throat mingled with the pull of the zipper keeping his last layer in place. Material shuffled, followed by what she figured was Cid placing on his regular clothing. "I felt like that a while ago, but I don't figure m' nervous anymore. I'm ready to go. S'been long enough."

"Tomorrow's a big day." Shera took a deep breath. "I almost can't believe it." She fiddled with her fingers. She felt like maybe they should talk about…where they stood before he left. But, it looked like he already had enough things on his mind.

"Yep. You can turn back on around now." Cid dug his belt through the loops of his trousers, and then fastened the buckle. "Can't fuckin' wait. After we get through all this time consuming nitpicking, it's lift-off." He stuffed on his shirt, jacket, and then his gloves.

Shera's eyes wondered up to Cid's forehead. The goggles he had taken to wearing were missing. She was starting to get used to seeing him have them on. "There's a method to the madness, I can assure you, Cid." She stood from her perch and clutched her well used clip board to her chest. Shera really wanted to be on another subject. The Captain must have saw it in her eyes, because he placed his hands on his waist and tilted his head.

"What?" Cid grunted.

"Um, nothing." Shera put on another gentle smile. Her hand rose to her forehead in a salute. "Good luck tomorrow, Captain Highwind. I've got a few last things to do, so, I apologize if you don't happen to see much of me before you take off."

"Eh?" Cid surprised her then; he actually pouted. "So I figure it's you now who's doin' all the nitpicking, huh?

"You caught me."

IV.

He was almost unrecognizable with the bandage wrapping his head. It was the dense presence Robin brought with him that alerted Shera that he was even there. She ducked out from behind the corner, looked out, and saw him treading the work terrace extending over the chamber. She didn't make a sound; listening to the crinkle of paper in his hand, and something he was muttering to himself in a language she recognized. What was he doing here? She was certain, that if he worked for ShinRa, this wasn't his department.

"Excuse me?!" Head craned upward, Shera swung her leg over a bundle of piping and called out to him.

Robin paused the unpeeling of a ladder, and glanced down at her. His dark brown eyes, as usual, were unreadable. "Hey."

"This area is only for authorized personnel. It needs to be cleared out in preparation for launch tomorrow." Shera pulled herself up to the stairs; meeting Robin on the other side of the metal platform. She could feel he was in as foul a mood as Cid had been this morning. Her eyes kept curiously falling upon the hidden injury to his head.

"I'm aware. Besides, I have authorization. I was sent here to make a fix." Robin held up the crumpled paper in his hand. It was clearly the reform she had called for earlier that month. They really had to be kidding her. They had _all_ that time to fix this, and they chose nearly the _las_ t minute to do so, and with a person that didn't even _belong_ here.

"I see, well-"

"I won't be long." Robin cut her off. His demeanor shifted and it unnerved her. All of a sudden he was interested in conversation; giving her the same roaming glare he had on her apartment porch.

Shera attempted to turn tail down the stairs before he could open his mouth again, but he moved to hold out his arm and bar the exit rail with a long arm. She tried not to show how alarmed she was, and took a step back to remedy Robin's broad chest being the only view past her glasses.

"Do you have a minute?"

Shera's mouth gaped open and her brows were drawn tight over worried eyes. She wasn't sure if she should refuse to humor him. Something told her that his question was rhetorical.

"I have other things to do. Excuse me." Shera anxiously pressed her frames up her nose. She made a motion for him to remove his arm and allow her leave.

"I just want to warn you. That what you're doing, isn't worth it."

The muscles in Shera's forehead grew so tense, it could have given her a headache. Every feature in her face hardened in response. "I said, I have other things to do."

Robin's own tree bark expression finally lit up with intrigue. He searched her eyes, and then sighed. "I meant Cid. You're doing a lot of this for him, aren't you? He's real sweet on the eyes, isn't he? A killer smile, and a can-do-only-if-I-want-to-attitude? Can't get enough of it, right? He's a motivator; it's what he does." He paused. "But, I'm telling you he's not worth it."

Leaning down, Robin made his eyes level with hers. He was close enough for her to smell the antibacterial beneath the gauze of his bandages. Even though Shera defiantly kept her mouth shut, he continued.

"He'll find something about you he doesn't like, and he'll hold it against you. He'll tell you you're wrong, and he's right. Nothing you do will ever change his mind once he's decided you're a waste of his time. Cid's not a good guy."

"And how do you know?" Shera's voice was hardly audible. Her eyes kept darting to the stairway as he eased himself up from her personal space, and lowered his arm from blocking the exit.

Robin's temple twitched. "Do you like being yelled at?"

"…No?"

"I think you do." Robin placed more space between them. It was apparent he didn't want to be watched, and was waiting for her to take her overdue leave now.

Shera swallowed the dryness from her throat; still staring Robin down as she backed to the creaking stairway. "I asked you, how did you know."

Robin was quiet for a long stretch of time. It only served to increase Shera's anxiousness.

"Former co-pilot." Was all he said.

V.

Tossing and turning.

The sheets covering her bed were rolled up and untucked from the corners like her thoughts. Shera's mind wouldn't allow her to settle and rest. Something, just wasn't right.

Her anxiety should have been a product of excitement; anticipating the relief of success in her efforts. But Robin's face. She kept seeing it, kept seeing that he didn't want to be watched. Why?

Something, just wasn't right.

VI.

He knew she mentioned he probably wouldn't get to see her. Cid kept hoping to catch little glimpses of yellow, or hear her voice down the hall. But, for much of the morning, he never did. He'd get plenty of time to patronize Shera after he came back, right? Still, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. If there was anyone he wanted to kick this mother fucker off with, it was her.

But, you know what, the cameras were all set up and recording, and every nook and cranny held someone eagerly, or nervously working. Cid willed himself to hold off his distraction. Now was not the time to get all woe-some and bent up in the heart strings. His own mark in history was less than a few hours away. If he didn't already have his cabin gloves on, he would have rubbed his hands in anticipation. Cid's heart was beating a mile a minute, not because he was nervous, but because he was so damn ready. Made for this. Born for this.

"Alright! Alright!" Palmer's voice carried across the room. It looked like he had just rolled out from the command center; coffee in hand. "Is the Cap'n ready to hit the road?"

"Just about. We're on the last layer, Mr. Palmer."

"Hehe! Good, good!" Palmer stepped aside so someone behind him could slink in and get a few last photos. "Everything's dandy at the launch pad. All workers cleared out, and fuel se-cured! All we need is our pilot here. Ready, Highwind?"

"I've been ready for two damn years! Why the hell are you askin' me?!"

VII.

How long had she worked here again? Out of all that time, Shera had never known the front desk to have a line. A long line. Half the people there weren't individuals she recognized, and from her vantage point, the front secretary appeared particularly chatty today.

At any rate, the launch was going to start in just an hour, and she really had no time, care, or patience to wait on casual gossip. Shera was meant to station herself in the command room, but couldn't shake off the need to check on the ENGINE ROOM one last time. Irritated, she pulled her phone from her lab coat pocket to check the time. Forty five minutes until launch.

You know what, she'd just have to go down without any official notification. She didn't have time for this.

Clicking her tongue, Shera stepped out of line and took off in a brisk walk through the clusters of people standing about the open lobby. She hooked around a narrow hallway to a separate check in office. Sliding her official badge through the lock, she opened the office door and manually scribbled down a log note for them to look at later on a high up white board.

She checked the time again. Forty minutes until launch.

Shera got a move on.

VIII.

"Sorry, but all of the chambers are supposed to be clear at this time."

"I apologize, but I really need to do one last check. It's urgent." Shera's hair was a wind rushed mess behind her. She had sprinted all the way down to the launch pad, and ate up the ladder with arms and legs. Her face was flushed and her breathing as short as her current nerves.

"I really can't let you in. There's…" The mechanic currently guarding the door lifted his wrist to view his watch. "About twenty-five minutes until they load up the pilot and begin launch sequence. The only people allowed inside are all we have here to usher the Captain in." He caught on to Shera's shifty movement to where there was more space to slip inside the entryway, and side stepped to block her.

"You've checked this rocket more than enough times, Ms. Joules. Shouldn't you be in the control room with the department head?" Her current time-waster crossed his arms.

"Yes." Shera's voice edged. "But there's a possible fault in the ENGINE ROOM. It won't take me long. I promise."

"Again, sorry, but I'm really not supposed to-" One of the other engineers on the inside came up behind him, and called his attention to something. While he was distracted, she slunk in behind him and toed down to the other terrace. She kept her footsteps just as quiet climbing the stairs to the LOX tanks.

Twenty minutes until launch.

IX.

Cid's blood was a raspy rhythm. He could hardly hear the men calling to him and beginning to lock up the other chambers.

"Good luck, Captain!"

"Be safe!"

"We're praying for you up there, man."

He placed his heavily gloved hand on a passing pipe, and patted the hunk of machinery for good luck. He didn't once look up at the sky that morning, because soon enough, he'd be admiring the vastness beyond it. Footsteps carried across the metal pathways in proud echoes. The cockpit wasn't too much further now. Cid could already feel the controls beneath his fingertips, the shouts and claps of success through the audio connecting him to solid ground, and see the twinkle of stars lightyears away. What a lucky son of a bitch he was.

And he was luckier to have caught the flash of a frizzy, auburn ponytail down the other corridor. Just the gal he wanted to see was shimming up a bracket of space conservation rungs to the line of liquid oxygen tanks.

Boy, that woman was never satisfied, was she?

"Hey!" Cid entered and barked up to her. He roughened his voice, but couldn't hide the smile sitting in the tone. "You work like a fuckin' snail, you know that? Ain't you supposed to be at the control center?!"

"Sorry, I just…I'm not going to make it. I have to fix this." Shera would have jumped down the ladder and hopped to the next one if it weren't completely impractical. She shuffled down to the metal floor, and then trotted over to climb up and check the next.

She wished she had time to explain, but if Cid was here, it was because she really was running out of time. He couldn't have seen how pale her face was, or the restless bags beneath her eyes. The first three tanks she had checked were correct in numbers, but she couldn't rid herself of the dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't be sure until she had checked them all. And as much as she wanted to hastily glance at their individual gauges, Shera knew this one last crucial check couldn't be done half-assed.

 _Ten minutes until launch sequence._

"Moon'd get tired of waitin' around for your ass. Now that I think about it, it's been waitin' around for you all year like the rest of us. They all look fine, Shera. _Stop faultfinding_ and hightail it out of here."

"I'm sorry, I am, but I really have to do this. Just the last two and I'll duck out with the last of the crew." She could give those a proper check with four minutes to each, right? Two minutes to spare and leave?

"You aren't stupid, so why the hell you'd chose now to do this? You know how much time you've got left, right?"

"I promise I'll be out. Go on ahead to the cockpit, Captain."

X.

 _Six minutes until launch sequence._

Shera could hear the voices near the exit beginning to thin until she couldn't hear them at all. Her heartbeat thundered beneath her ribs. She was absolutely nauseous, her hands shaking and palms slick with her panic. Tank number seven was not cooperating with her, and she couldn't figure out why. No matter how much she twisted and turned on the adjuster, it Would. Not. Move. The hard metal of the spokes bit in and rawed the skin of her hands till they stung.

 _Four Minutes Until Launch Sequence._

Shera focused her blurring eyes on the gauge above her, and pushed all of her weight into trying to get the pressure to move back into the proper range. Her teeth gnashed as she fought against pain; sweat trickling down her forehead. She hadn't noticed how much the chamber had warmed since she got there.

 _Three Minutes Until Launch Sequence._

XI.

"Hello there and Good morning, Midgar!

We are happy to tell you that we are broadcasting LIVE from the Western Continent, just along the very spine of the Nibelheim Mountains... Behind us, we have ShinRa power company's very own Rocket No.26 preparing for a spec-tacular launch!

We have news that the current pilot, Captain Cid Highwind, is loaded, and all systems are go. In a short moment we'll be switching to give you folks an inside look into the command center, and all the minds and faces that helped bring everything together here today.

With just three minutes to spare, three-two-one, lift-off! Let's have a look inside!

XII.

"Captain?"

 _ **Engine pressure rising. Shinra No. 26, 3 minutes to launch. Beginning countdown.**_

"Captain."

Cid sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils. He flipped a few switches; bringing the panel below his fingers to life. He anchored another hand on the thick padding of the body-latch clamp keeping him upward in the hard angle of his seat. For a long while, he stared up at the blinking machinery above him.

"Finally." He was here. He was ready for the rocket to propel them both right up and through the atmosphere. No hard gravitational force could match the swell of excitement he currently held in the very pit of his belly.

"Captain Highwind."

"What?" Cid finally turned up his audio feed and tuned into the murmurs of voices that were a previous background to his thoughts. He decided he really didn't favor their tone of voice. "…what's wrong?"

"Uh, we have a bit of an emergency situation. We're detecting someone near the engines."

Cid's blood ran cold. They didn't have to tell him who. He already figured who it was.

XIII.

 **"SHERA?!"**

She winced at the bark of her name through the crackling overhead speaker. Shera bit down on her cheek till it hurt. She had moved on to the last oxygen tank, checked it in her urgency, and then came back to the same one that had refused any adjustment.

"Are you still in there?!"

"Y-yes, Captain, it's me." Shera wheezed. Multiple systems in the chamber began humming and even to roaring to life. Sweat pouring down her temples, dripping down her nose, and stinging her eyes, the heat in the chamber was starting to become unbearable. Her glasses were fogged, and throat dry. With all her tiredness, and a growing headache, Shera wanted to give up. But she _had_ to fix this, or she was never going to forgive herself.

"You stupid bitch! What did I fucking tell you?! Why are you still here?!" Cid snarled. He ignored the concerned voices in his audio frantically debating what they were going to do. He could hear Palmer shouting: _"So that's where she is!"_ followed by a garbled _"C-cut the camera! Cut the camera!"_

"I told you!" Shera lifted her voice as loud as she could manage and bellowed back to Cid. "I have to fix this! If I can fix it, everything will be fine! Just continue with the launch. I'll be okay!"

 _ **One Minute Remaining.**_

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" How hot was it in there already? "Shera there ain't gonna be a crispy piece of you left if you stay in there. You're not going be okay, _you're going to die_."

"I don't care!" Shera shrieked with a voice filled to the brim with frustration. "Please, I've almost got it!"

"C-captain?" The audio in Cid's ear crackled. The control room had completely hushed.

"WHAT?!"

"We can't go back on sequence now. The combustion chambers are almost fully warmed. It'll be another six months to replenish what we've already used. It's…it's your call now."

"Shera's still…She's still in there!"

"We know. She wasn't authorized to enter."

XIV.

49

48

47

Moisture trickled down from Shera's nostril. She wiped at it with her sleeve; smearing sweat and the bright red of the bleed across the dingy white of her lab coat. She could see the heat rising in distorting waves from the tops of metal surfaces. She had long pressed up her glasses to her forehead; they were too fogged to help her see.

She almost had it. The metal of the adjuster might as well have been welded in place, but she could finally feel it giving way beneath the now burned palms of her hands; bringing the pressure in the tank tick by tick. Shera wedged herself more into the space; ignoring the heat seeping in through her clothes and scorching her beneath.

XVI.

30

"Temperatures rising. Thirty seconds until we have to ignite. There isn't any time. Captain Highwind, you're going to have to forget about her."

"Forget her?!" Fuck the engine, Cid was going to ignite. His face had boiled red; teeth pressed tightly together until they ached in his jaw. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Kill her and be a GODDAMN SELFISH MURDERER?!

27

26

Let the world know that the sky wasn't the limit?

20

19

18

Or be another good for nothing failure in the record books?

16

15

XVII.

Soft hues of orange and yellow tinted the lip of the horizon. The sun, the culprit this time, had risen and found nothing extraordinary to see.

3

2

1

…

XVIII.

Everything was so…bright. It stung in the hazel of Shera's eyes, giving her good reason to close them again. For a while, she was sure that she was dead. She felt weightless, stale, out of body,

Numb.

There was a deep, low sound that felt distant to her at first. She wondered when she was going to be judged and pulled by the waiting ropes of the life stream, until the sound became something familiar. A voice. And then a steady beeping.

Her eyes opened again. They stung a little less; just enough for her to squint with glasses-less vision and assess where she was. Okay, not dead. But maybe it was better she was. She could hear Cid better now. In wearily turning her head, she could see him. He was to the right of her heart monitor and IV, and seated at the very edge of a hard visitor's chair. Whatever hushed conversation was going on stopped, and they twined eyes.

She would trade her own beating heart for warm sea water, but all Shera saw around the depth of his pupils was ice.


	5. Chapter 5

**I apologize for the months long break between chapters. You know how it goes. Still unsure of where I want this to end, but we have a while a ways to go from here. Things will get better I promise!  
**

* * *

I.

This had to have been the worst day of her life.

II.

The worst day was turning into the worst week. Cold stones were taking up a constant residence at the very bottom of Shera's stomach, and in her throat, a tense ball of guilt. She couldn't look any of her co-workers in the eye, and they couldn't do so either.

"Are um...You doing alright?"

Anyone who cared to come and check on her condition approached her with caution. At this point, what was anyone really supposed to say, or assume? The whole facility seemed to be unsure, frozen in time.

Except for Cid. Desperate to have things rolling again, there was word that he was throwing a full blown, good ol' fashioned fit.

She hadn't seen him since her first day in the hospital. He didn't say a word; leaving her alone with the physician. His eyes. Shera knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was angry with her. Perhaps angry wasn't a strong enough word.

"I'm... I'm not. It's all my fault."

III.

"I'm sure you can...deduce why I'm here, Ms. Joules."

Shera should have felt dread when she saw the older woman enter her recovery room, but her stomach couldn't sink any further. The anticipation of repercussions probably vexed her more than all of her raw, healing burns.

"I believe so." Shera righted her glasses and sat up straight. She was sure she looked a hot mess anyhow.

"Dr. Frankenhalther?" The question was asked in formality, of course Shera knew her name. Dr. Frankenhalther was an older, slender looking woman. If she hadn't been managing her, Shera would have easily mistaken her for a principal, maybe a court judge. And rightly so. If she was summoned, it usually wasn't because you did something good.

"Yes, I would like to say that it's nice to see you again," she paused "But, I bring you bad news. In response to the recent incident, you have been requested to appear before the president."

Shit.

"I understand…" Shera deeply sighed. She was wrong about her stomach not being able to sink any further. Or maybe it wasn't her stomach leaving her. She was feeling out of body again.

"I was told transportation is being arranged for you as soon as you're well enough to travel. You'll be accompanied by myself, Captain Highwind, and Director Palmer." The older woman slowly stepped to a side table nearest to Shera's bed. She extended her arm, placing down a folder with paperwork for Shera to fill out.

"Thank you." Shera's voice cut the back of her tongue. The inside of her mouth had dried to desert sand. The sound of her heels fresh on the linoleum, Dr. Frankenhalther was gone in the next moment, leaving Shera alone with blinking hospital equipment.

With privacy again, Shera allowed her glassy eyes to let go of all the moisture that had welled in the stinging corners. They burned down her cheeks in thin lines. She wasn't crying just because she was sad.

She was so angry.

IV.

…

V.

…

VI.

…

VII.

Three days crept past her. They moved so slowly and so silently that Shera hardly felt them leave. The weather today was mellow, unlike her mood. But she had to set her mood aside. Suck things up, because she was a big girl wasn't she? (She still felt like crying) Wasn't she?

Cid brushed by her while she was stuffing her bag into the private plane's overhead storage. "Excuse me." She pardoned her own blocking of the aisle.

Cid took his seat without any response. It wasn't often that he wasn't the one flying the plane. He clicked on his seat belt, closed his eyes, and made it quite clear he didn't feel like talking. His mind was on the meeting ahead of them. He was crossing his mental fingers, and trying to keep his temper from giving him a literal headache.

Palmer, in a seat ahead of him, was a fidgeting mess. Surely crossing everything. Shera imagined if he had a brown paper bag to wheeze into, he would have had it out. Maybe he'd have an extra one for her, too.

Dr. Frankenhalther was the last to enter the small private plane and situate her belongings. After that, the cabin was uncomfortably quiet.

Shera hardly paid any attention to the usual emergency and safety drilling. Though it stirred her stomach, take off didn't excite her like it should have, either. All of it, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. It wasn't right. Looking out the window, seeing the sky and thickly clumped clouds from above only gave her a stronger sense of heartbrokeness.

 _When you n' me get our pats on the back..._

Unlikely.

Snapping the window partition closed, Shera deflated into her seat. Only six more hours until they land.

VIII.

Midgar was somewhat like all the photos. It was an impressive, seven sectioned piece of man power and monopoly. As shiny and lively as it was, it was also entirely underwhelming. Shera supposed she should have expected that with being in such close proximity. Traveling the sectors showed her more than an over-touched, postcard photo would.

For one, it showed her all the pollution, second, an obvious lack of vegetation, and third, all of the riff raff. If she felt mainland on the research facility was different from her island, Midgar felt like a completely different dimension. A somewhat smelly dimension with red diamonds plastered around every metal and concrete corner.

"Our hotel is coming up at the next stop, um…" Palmer cleared his throat and squinted with narrowed, beady eyes at the bright light of his phone screen. Every time the train rolled over a rough track and lurched, it looked like it would fly right out of his hands.

"Oops! No, the third stop. Uh…" He was trying to hold the screen steady enough to read more "We'll be in conference with President ShinRa bright and early tomorrow at eight….oh, no that's eight...in the evening." Palmer pouted.

"Why so fuckin' late?!" Cid had chosen to stand instead of sit on one of the benches. He straightened out his back and blew fumes from a fresh cigarette from his nose. "This is important shit!"

"President ShinRa is probably dedicating his early day to sitting in with other projects." Dr. Frankenhalther answered. She was keeping the sway of her glasses chain from tangling in with stray portions of her hair.

"So this is a minor inconvenience? Not worth pinning to the top of the schedule?" Cid's tone was an irritated one. He finally took a seat as their last stop was finally approaching. Hand tight on the rail, the Captain's knuckles had turned white.

"Most likely." Dr. Frankenhalther crossed her arms, and then sighed. She would say for no one to keep up any hopes, but being in her position, she knew a little more than they did. "President ShinRa has a selective attention span. Don't you think, ?"

"Yeah….sure sure, Ross…" He patted his sweaty forehead with an handkerchief from his pocket. Dr. Frankenhalther's snakelike eyes were on his. They both knew they were beyond being on a hot bench. The meeting would probably leave the department head crispy and smoking.

The older woman set her eyes on Shera; noting and accepting her lack of comment. Their lines of sight crossed very briefly. Ross could see Shera chewing on the inside of her cheeks and the slight bags beneath her eyes. She guessed, the president couldn't chew her up and spit her out if she was already taking chunks out of herself. But Ross guessed again, considering Cid's incisors were probably sharp in a different, more painful fashion.

Most who worked the parameter knew that Captain Highwind and Ms. Joules had some sort of tangible fondness for one another. And most knew that Captain Highwind had a tangible temper, but the earlier week after the incident was a completely different monster from the Captain's usual bickering. He chewed out anyone, everyone, and everything. And yet, not the one who caused the source of his anxiety.

At least, not yet.

It was only a matter of time. What a mess…

IX.

No matter how many times she sighed, or how many deep breaths she took, Shera could not get her body to calm. Of all the times to no longer feel numb about things…

With one for each member of the trip, she had her privacy again in a relatively comfortable hotel room. Not bothering to unpack any of her things once she had settled inside, Shera took to pacing over the carpet before the made bed. The whir of the room's air conditioning responded to the drone of all of her thoughts. Everything was piling on at once, making it hard to really think.

She had never felt more in trouble, more guilty, in her life, just to reiterate.

Her legs weary, Shera finally sank down at the edge of her bed. She stared at herself in the mirror covering the room's provided closet. She still looked awful, with her uncombed hair, and raw skin, and waxy bandages, and tired hazel eyes. Shera touched her chapped lips, finally remembering that she was a thing that needed to drink water, and possibly eat. She couldn't recall if she ate at all during their trip.

She figured she would search for something after having a decent bath. Or maybe a quick shower would be better. If she sat too long, she'd be more submerged in her thoughts than the water. Shera was slipping in again even now. The thought of having to face the president scared her half to death, but the thought of having to speak to Cid scared her even more.

She desperately wanted to apologize, needed to do that for what common decency was worth. But no amount of words could possibly make up for ruining the one thing they had spent millions of Gil, and thousands of hours working for.

"Yeah, you know. Sorry I derailed your dreams with my little bastard hands." Shera sighed again at herself. There was a momentary surge of anger. She snatched up the headboard pillow and snarled into it. It was her fault. It wasn't her fault.

Shower, eat, finish filling out paperwork, dread tomorrow and the rest of her career, but hope relentlessly that things would be okay.

And talk to him, talk to him, talk to him, coward.

X.

Shera had been so anxious to speak with Cid, that she forgot to slip on her shoes. Her hair, still wet from her shower, clung to the back of her neck and left a spot large enough over her back, that her bra and bandages could be seen through the fabric of her night clothes.

The tiled flooring of the dim lobby was hard and cold through her socks. There was another person awake, waiting for the elevator. Shera could see out of the corner of her eye that they were concerned from her appearance. She got off on the proper backlit number before they could consider prying into if she was in need of help. The chlorine fumes from the ground floor pool was immediately evicted from her nose; with the scent of tobacco from the smoking section taking its place.

This was probably the right floor.

XI.

"Cid... It's me."

Cid had ignored the knock at first, assuming that Palmer was back to pester him about tomorrow evening. The sound of Shera's voice brought him from the chair he was wallowing in. He stopped in front of the door, and forced himself to look through the peephole.. He considered just telling her to go away.

"What the hell do you _want_?"

There was a brief pause. Cid could feel Shera take a little step back.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm... I'm very sorry." He could hardly hear her.

"Yeah, I bet you are! That all you got to say?!" Cid was trying to keep the growl from his voice, but it was difficult. Every shred of instinct, every ounce in him wanted to ring her little neck.

"N-no, um…" Another pause.

The door rattled with Cid yanking out all the locks and latches. He ripped the threshold open, his partially bare body blocking entry to keep her out in the hall.

"If you're gonna wait this damn long to say somethin' to me, y'think you'd have the damn decency to not waste any more of my time while doin' it? _Is that all you have to say? I'm sorry_?"

"I'm...Sorry." Shera pulled at her fingers, focusing her glossed eyes on the carpet. "I didn't mean for, I didn't want any of this to happen. I wanted that rocket to launch more than anything. But-"

"You couldn't fuckin' help yourself, huh?" It irritated him to no end that she wouldn't look him in his face. "You'd save a whole lot of pain in the ass if you would just stop messin' with things that are perfectly fine. If you would stop being such a goddamn nitpicking, selfish perfectionist." Cid spat. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sharply exhaled because he could feel himself becoming red in the face, and his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"Cid, I'll-" Shera thickly swallowed "I can...I'll make it up to you somehow."

" _Captain. Highwind._ " Cid's hand was firm on the door frame. The metal stressed beneath his tensed fingers. "And I've had enough of you for now, no thanks."

Shera's head snapped up to him then. Her eyes filled with something Cid couldn't discern. She blinked as if she was recovering from being slapped right in the face. He might as well have.

"Sir…" She corrected herself. Her tone bristled him further. "Please, I can _explain_ everything."

"Then you better pray to whatever god you get on your knees for, that you're damn good at explaining tomorrow. Because I'm not going down again for anyone."

XII.

He slammed the door right in her face, and returned to dissolving into the room chair. Cid pulled another cigarette from the carton tossed over his bed, and smoked it down to the butt in silence.

All of her bandaged burns. Her thick, furrowed eye brows. The dark circles beneath her eyes. The expression he didn't quite understand. Cid knew she was hurt and sorry. But he couldn't keep doing this again.

For better or for worse, regardless of how much he wanted her, this was another red flag if he ever saw one.

He meant it. He wasn't going down for any man, or any woman ever again.

XIII.

 **3 New voicemail(s)**

 _ **Hello? Shera? You haven't called me in a while. I've been watching the news? What happened? Please, call me when you can, Love You…**_

 _ **...**_

 _ **Shera, It's Mama. I'm calling to check up on you again. I just want to know if you're okay.**_

 _ **...**_

 _ **My daughter you have to call me eventually. Your roommate picked up the home phone...Are you in Midgar? What is going on? I'm afraid for you… I'm not going to stop calling until I know you're okay. Like me or not, whatever happened, I still love you.**_

 _ **Call me.**_

XIV.

The mid floor of the ShinRa company building was still active for being so late. People worked at desks as if it was still midday, like there wasn't a literal, somewhat bourgeoisie dining party happening a few floors below them.

Shera's anxious breaths came in soft, inaudible puffs through her nose as a secretary lead their group through several winding hallways and stairs to the top floor: the president's office.

Palmer, more so to himself than she, Captain Highwind, or Ross, complained that they weren't conversing in the big, comfortable meeting room. And he quite disliked that they weren't utilizing the fancy steel elevators. All of this really didn't matter to Shera.

That was actually a lie. Without the excessive steps, they'd be there sooner. She was still drilling her explanations in her head. Thinking of what to say, and her own broken heart, had kept her up the night before. The least both organs owed her was the right damn thing to say.

"The president will be with you in a moment." The secretary gave them all a fake smile, and then took the stairs back down.

"Un-fucking believable." The Captain muttered with crossed arms. If there ever was more of an insult...The boss late to his own meeting. None of them took a seat, as there were none aside from the President's empty, red, leather chair. They were either unwelcome, or not a care in the world was given for this slice of ShinRa's investments.

"Let's get this over with." Ross took out records from her satchel, and then organized them on a clipboard. Faintly, movement and muffled conversation could be heard from behind an immaculate double door.

The office was quiet again as the President made his 'grand entry', flanked by a woman in a rather... interesting, crimson red, feather boa trimmed evening gown that plunged down to her stomach. Shera's expression twisted at the sight of them.. President ShinRa appeared the way she expected him to. Stout, stern, old money. And, the other woman...Something told her that she was the so called Scarlet.

Blue eyes steady, just as old and sharp as Ross' looked from face to face. President ShinRa lowered into his chair. His stubby, masculine fingers drummed an armrest, while the other balanced a freshly lit cigar. He was dressed in an expensive looking, red tuxedo; probably from participating in his own party.

"I want to make this quick, as not to be rude to my dinner guests." The President spoke slowly around the browned paper of his cigar; seeming to be addressing Palmer first and foremost. "Tell me why you have wasted my money and my resources, and why I should give you more?"

Before Palmer could even contemplate opening his mouth, Captain Highwind spoke. "There ain't any waste in this, just some set backs. We can pull through and make this happen if we get one more chance." Shera, barely catching the determination set in his features, wondered how he could still appear so confident at a time like this. His body was coiled as if he had been waiting.

The President's attention moved slowly. The motion reminded Shera of a scrutinizing security camera. "Ah...Captain Highwind. You're a fellow of second chances, aren't you?"

Scarlet broke her silence at his side and snorted.

"You see. I've given seconds, and thirds, and be exact, I've given twenty sixths. So, what was the setback _this_ time? I'm curious." His expression didn't elude to that.

Just as icy as they had been all week, the Captain's blue eyes flickered in Shera's direction. "I think Joules here can better explain."

Recognizing everyone but Shera, the President moved to her. He didn't say a word, expecting her to spit it out for him. Her heart rattled in her ribs. All of her accounts, reasons, and explanations became a jumbled unusable mess under the density of his gaze. Her lips felt glued together, and her voice mute. All eyes on her, everyone was waiting.

Minor seconds felt like painful hours. She was trying to call upon her right mind, and when she found it, it asked her: What was the point? The first thing she had wanted to spotlight, was that really, all of this wasn't her fault. But, what proof did she have with her? Literally none. How would it would make her sound? Like a conniving bitch, blaming someone irrelevant to save her skin.

Robin was a minor employee who had followed the orders he was given. Robin wasn't here. And unlike her, he wasn't unauthorized to be in that chamber minutes before an official launch.

XV.

"President ShinRa," Shera cleared her throat and balled her sweaty palms at her sides. "I am...Shera Joules, one of the over seers of the um, Rocket chambers and machinery. I detected an ongoing fault with one of the...liquid oxygen tanks. I had ran out of time trying to remedy it, and Captain Highwind had halted the launch to prevent my...passing."

President ShinRa pulled his cigar from the corner of his lips. He sighed, the exhaust leaving his nostrils in thick, slithering snakes. He briefly checked the time on his wristwatch, and then passed his whittled cigar to Scarlet, who with a slimy smile, smothered it in a ashtray.

"So, Captain Highwind, do you think her life was worth thirty nine billion Gil?"

Captain Highwind squared his jaw, keeping a scowl from becoming his obvious reaction to the offending question. He focused his eyes on the curve of Shera's cheek, and then took a tempered step to the side. Palmer, who had been silent and cowering behind him, spooked at being revealed, and then stood up straight now that he was back in the President's plain line of sight.

"Don't really think you put a price on that." The math didn't escape Cid.

Shera's life was going to cost the whole program.

XVI.

The ac in her hotel room hustled on again, generating plenty of racket and chilling her toes at the other end of the bed. Shera had pulled a pillow up over her head to hide her tears and tissue raw nose. The TV was turned down low, and then eventually turned off. Her mistake was vague, but constantly broadcasting ticker tape.

"Hey, Mama...I'm sorry I haven't called you." Shera tried to sound neutral through the dampness in her voice. She was sure her mother could still hear it, though. There was a long moment where mother Joules didn't say a word, but despite the silence, her concern was loud and clear through the speaker.

"I'm really sorry you haven't called me either. Tell me what's going on."

"If I tell you everything, I'll start crying again, and I just stopped."

Yolanda hated when Shera did this, but started the commenced puzzle with prodding the edges. "Then what hurts the least?"

"The fact that I have no job." Shera sniffed.

"What is in the middle…?" She could hear her mother's confusion as she tried to piece things together.

"The fact that no one else is going to have a job either…"

"What in the world…?" There was no other comment on that.

"So what's really turning on the faucet?"

"He's never going to look at me the same."


End file.
